In Our Own World
by bouj525
Summary: Lexa missed Clarke like one missed their favorite song after becoming deaf. Clarke missed Lexa like one missed their favorite color after becoming blind. Or The travel-the-world and online meeting AU.
1. Departure

**This is more of a prologue than an actual chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading :)**

* * *

 **In our own world**

 **Departure**

"Watch where you're heading!"

"You'll live."

"You almost made me lose my leg!"

Raven's voice resonated loudly in the airport's main hallway as the blonde stranger she just bumped into made no sign of apology, rather winking at her as she took off in the opposite direction. Raven's unusual sentence made a few heads turn to her direction, confusion well displayed in the looks she was being sent. The young woman shrugged and turned to her own blonde friend as they both walked toward the registering counter to check in.

"Don't you think it's amazing, the amount of people who've never seen a woman wearing a brace? You'd think they enjoy being born stupid and doing nothing to change their IQ level or something," she said.

"It's amazing how grumpy you are when we have to wake up at four in the morning," Clarke's lethargic voice answered.

"I wanted to go on a trip. I never said anything about sacrifying my sleep for it. You're the one who wanted to leave early to avoid traffic. But beside that, that's her loss. She has no idea she just hit the next best mechanic in America. I'm going to be requested later and she missed her chance for an authograph."

"You are the human personalization of modesty, has anyone ever told you that?" Clarke deadpaned, tossing her third empty cup of coffee in the nearest garbage bag she could find.

Raven winked as they received their boarding passes and had their lugagges verified. She loved airports, even more since her involvement in a certain car accident that had trapped with a leg brace for eternity. She came from a modest family, and flying was a dream she had had since she had become aware of huge machines defying gravity. She had spent many hours reading about what miraculous systems made it possible for them to cross to the sky.

Meeting Clarke had been a pure coincidence, but it had lead to much more than what she had expected.

It had been Clarke's last day as an intern at her mother's hospital, which also had coincided with the one Raven had been brought to after her accident. An extremely pissed Raven had just learned she would need a brace for the rest of her life, and she had been tossing things around, claiming she didn't need any cheap piece of metal to help her stand up, when Clarke had finally walked in her room.

The blonde med student had barely had time to avoid a box of random drugs being thrown at her head as she had closed the door behind them. Clarke hadn't needed any help figuring out what the matter was. Frankly, she couldn't blame her patient to want to murder her, but she did wish she had finished her internship a day ealier.

The blonde intern had tried to discuss with Raven, but the woman just ignored her existence.

Clarke had then proceeded to do the only thing she could think of while she was being thrown looks of painful death : flirting. It made no sense, but to her surprise, it worked.

Raven had been her last patient, of her last day, and she obviously was going through the worst day of her life, so Clarke could afford to let go of all ethical etiquette she had learned for a few minutes. She had tried to cheer Raven up by using the lamest pick-up lines she could think of, knowing if would only make them laugh at her awkwardness.

Raven's features had turned from anger, to confusion, to annoyance, to slight interest, and finally, she had let Clarke go on with her consult.

Neither of them had known at that time that the flirting would lead to a series of casual hook ups, until Raven's heart got stolen by another guy. They remained the closest friends since then.

They walked in direction of their gate, stopping for breakfast on the way. Clarke's three coffees weren't a consistent meal, and Raven had promised the Griffin parents that she would keep their daughter healthy enough to go through their whole trip.

Raven was only waiting for them to leave their city to break that promise.

After ordering two blueberry muffins and enough pancakes to cure world hunger, they waited for their plane to arrive at the gate, their departure in direction of New York City scheduled for seven o'clock.

They exchanged a few words before losing themselves in the virtual world one last time. Raven yawned excessively loudly, which made Clarke pretend she had no idea who this strange woman was. A few mockeries, with a lot of muffin crumbs spattered on the airport's floor, later, they were turning their phones off and waiting for their seats to begin boarding.

"Have you texted O? She's probably awake by now," Clarke asked as she absentely played with her shirt.

"I did. She said to bring her souvenirs from every city we see since she can't get out of school."

"You mean since Lincoln can't get out of school. The woman's so whipped she would rather stay here in case she misses her boyfriend's graduation."

"At least she has a date," Raven pointed out.

"At least we have many plane tickets to travel," Clarke replied excitedly.

They both had been single since the incident that was partly responsible for this impulsive idea to backpack around the world, and while they missed the feeling of commiting to someone, they weren't in any hurry to settle down again.

"What if we meet our soulmates out there and we don't know it because they don't speak the same language as us?" Raven wondered out loud, half joking. "I could be using my best moves and the person wouldn't even realize it, it's a damn tragedy."

"If you can't make the person realize you're using your best move, it's probably not your best move," Clarke wisely replied.

"You're probably right. But imagine meeting someone you actually care about, and it's at some astonomical distance from where you come from. I mean, I know we don't know when we're coming back, but still, I'm not moving."

Clarke nodded. It was Raven's first long term trip, but it wasn't Clarke's. The blonde woman had had many encounters in her years of following her parents from one country to another, and whenever it started to lead somewhere serious, she had reminded herself that long distance relationships were not what she needed. There were enough complicated aspects in her life, she surely didn't need to add another one.

It hadn't stopped her from trying.

The heartaches and life threats that had resulted from those relationships had been enough to convince herself to never go this way again.

"You'll learn. We're not gone yet, don't think about all those things when we have no intention of dating in the first place," Clarke replied. "Somedays, life can just be twisted enough to make you enjoy someone's company a little too much. I'll drag you out of there if it happens."

"I like to surpass my limits, you know it. You're boring, C."

"I can live with that."

"I'd rather take my chances than be boring."

Raven's voice was full of conviction, and Clarke momentarily found herself wondering about those what if's. She was about to reply when their section was asked to start boarding the plane. She clenched her ticket in her hand, a nervous habit she had whenever she travelled, and glanced around one last time.

The airport was slowly coming back to life, after a quiet morning. Travellers of all kinds rushed from all directions, each of them with a specific destination in mind. It was crazy, the way this organized yet anarchic chaos found it rightful place in a world regulated by an incredibly high numbers of rules.

This one-of-a-kind disorder always seemed to fascinate some people, and terrify others. It represented the doors to other places, other territories, opposite cultures and contradicting beliefs. It filled itself with all sorts of people, neither friends nor enemies, sharing the one common goal of going somewhere else.

It was a whole distinct country itself, characterized by a mix of endless hallways and numbers of vendor machines, and by people being scrutinized like they each had a past tainted by corruption.

Some were heading home after a long vacation, and buzzed with the excitement of seeing their family again. Some were running away from their entourage in an ultimate quest to find themselves. Some were waiting to embark on a journey that would lead them to new career opportunities, while some were only waiting to party at their arrival.

A woman sat with her children, probably praying that none of them made a mess in the huis clos that was the airplane. A businessman reviewed his notes while talking at light speed on his phone. A couple of young college students played with their phones, updating their Facebook profiles like tomorrow didn't exist.

Two lovers were crying over their imminent separation.

Airplanes landed loudly all around them, while others rose proudly to the skies, governed by pilots focused on their tasks. People ran, jumped, raced, sprinted, even crawled, on every centimeter of the floor. Lost items were being carried from one terminal to another, while frantic people lost their mind over their passports and official papers.

It was a riotous world, but its appearance appeared clean at all time.

Temporary friendships were made by curious travelers gathering around the same coffee place. It was easy to spark a conversation with people they were never going to meet again. Whether it was to play cards or assemble around a guitar player, to steal a phone number that they were never going to call or an expensive computer, people just leant toward social interactions.

Temporary enemies were also made when requests were denied, and when planes were late and patience was tested.

Contacts were initiated by the most unexpected people, and sometimes, it lead to stories coming right out of fairytales.

There was no proper notion of physic in airports. Laws were never fully, especially those of space and time. A precise moment never settled to one specific time in a specific place. Time and space were ruled by relativity, by the various time zones and never ending distances in-between.

It was a place where hours and territories from all around the world collided together, creating a whirl of abstracted concepts. It was a place where any country could be reached simply by buying tickets or by shaking the hand of a native individual.

It was a place filled by stress and politics, and unjustified judgment. It was the art of diplomacy without the presence of the most important politicians. It was the art of trying to control everyone's presence and behavior, when this goal was unreachable on all sides.

It was a land where dreams flew high, but where hope could crash from greater heights.

It was place where boundaries were everywhere, and nowhere to be seen at the same time.

"I hope you didn't book all of our flights at this time or I'll consider moving back home already," Raven ranted as she fought the urge to fall asleep.

Clarke threw her an unimpressed look.

"You're the one who told me, and I quote, that 'we had to get as far away as possible from our place, because I was not doing okay, and you were not doing okay, and that it was not okay for us to not be okay, and that we needed to be okay, because the depression themed ambiance was not okay!' And you also told me the only way for us to be okay was to cut all links with our not okay situation, which mean you forced up to go on this impulsive 'it will make us be okay again' trip!"

Raven blinked, and blinked some more, and then winced at the number of okay in the same sentence. The future mechanic couldn't blame Clarke. Octavia and Clarke had came back late the day she had confronted her blonde friend about their situation and its potential solution.

"Okay?" Raven asked innocently.

"I've become allergic to this word!" Clarke dramatically covered her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Fine! I promise not to use the word 'okay' anymore, okay?"

It took two microseconds for Raven to avoid the ball of napkins being thrown at her face.

"Are we crazy?" Raven whispered.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She tried not to think of her family, of Octavia and their other friends they left behind for an unknown amount of time. She tried to ignore the twist in her heart that told her maybe it was a terrible idea. She tried to enourage the part of her that believed it was a terrific idea.

She managed to ignore the tiny part of her that insisted on remembering all the most tragic plane accidents, instead leaning on her rational statistical side.

"We are." Clarke murmured back.

When Raven and Clarke finally boarded their plane, all trace of sleep gone from their eyes, they didn't once look behind.

They were crazy, but at least, they were together.

* * *

 _It was cold. Cold and incredibly white. Snowflakes were slowly transforming the once emerald landscape in a fragile winter wonderland. The snow's beauty was enough to hide the lifeless world hidden under its cover._

 _It was dangerous. Black ice turned the safest road into death's open arms, and made the strongest trees bent under its weight. It was the kind of weather that would make any sane soul stay in the warm comfort of their house rather than step outside. It chased away every living person off wandering outside._

 _And yet, a blue car was parked outside, as a young woman stepped out carefully, crossing the frozen deserted road until she reached the safe land._

 _It was hot as hell, Clarke thought, face hidden under her three scarves, and body protected by two coats and three shirts. She had always had a terrible intuition when it came to icy weather and the number of layers she needed in order to avoid becoming part of the ice sculpture competition going on in the streets. She always assumed that snow rhymed with cold, while in fact, if it was too cold, the sky remained forever cloudless._

 _She exhaled a steam of warm breath and took a sip from her still fuming paper cup full of hot chocolate. It was ten o'clock in the evening, but it felt like a thousand years had passed since the last time she'd had a restful night. She took a few steps forward and stood immobile, breathing in and out, sometimes looking ahead of her, sometimes glancing toward the universe and its wonders above._

 _It was so quiet she swore she could hear snow hitting the ground, and with the only light being her car's headlights, the scene looked magical, tiny shadows flying everywhere, mixing with their owners. Clarke almost felt like she was in a snowglobe._

 _Despite the smoky layer of clouds, she had no trouble noticing the sparkling white dots decorating the sky. It always remained the same, and yet her dad had taught her a long time ago that nothing remained in place, that she, too, moved along the Earth, at a speed higher than anything she could ever imagine._

 _It was on days like this one, envelopped in the arms of the quiet atmosphere, that she wished she could slow down a little, go at the speed she desired rather than being dragged forcefully by laws of time and gravity._

 _She chuckled at the silliness of this thought._

 _She couldn't slow down even if she wanted to. She had to keep her mind busy, to keep her body walking forward. She had to focus on something, always, to find a new interest, to challenge herself endlessly, or she'd find herself thinking about subjects that made her existence painfully raw._

 _She walked in tiny circle, looking behind her as she left traces in the fresh snow carpet. She loved the crispy sounds it made whenever she'd step on an untouched territory. She felt like she was in a movie, waiting for something to happen and disturb the silence. And just on clue, she heard another person approaching from behind._

" _I should've known you'd be here."_

 _Octavia's clear voice broke the stillness of the scene, and somehow, Clarke found herself grateful for the interruption. A little more, and she'd have started doodling ridiculous figures on the snow, like she always ended up doing anyway._

 _Clarke didn't turn around. She simply waited for Octavia to stand by her side. It was a ritual they had been doing for nine years already, since Clarke had accidently caught the Blake woman skinny dipping in her pool in the middle of the night. The Blake sibblings were known to have no boundaries, and Octavia had accepted a dare, thinking the Griffin family was out of town._

 _Clarke had stumbled on a very naked Octavia, and had stayed there a great amount of time, wide eyed, not believing what she was witnessing. It had taken Octavia herself to close Clarke's mouth to stop her from drooling. Clarke had never been more embarassed, but embarassing herself at a first meeting meant she could only do better in the future._

 _Since then, no matter the circumstances, Clarke always waited for Octavia to join her side, confirming that she was fully clothed. It was always the same, whether they were at school or at any social events. They had never grown to be physically close, never embracing each other or sharing the same personal space, but their friendship was made of steel._

" _Raven sent me. She kept saying she looked everywhere and couldn't find you."_

 _Clarke rolled her eyes and slightly bumped her shoulder with Octavia's._

" _Raven doesn't look for anyone at this weather."_

" _What does that mean?"_

 _Clarke smiled sadly at her friend's confusion._

" _It means look around, O. There's ice on the ground, it's snowing, and I'm buried under many layers of clothes. Raven always knows where I am. She just didn't want to go outside."_

" _Someday I'll learn to stop trusting her."_

 _Clarke nodded absentely. There was no doubt in her mind that Raven knew exactly her whereabouts. She was convinced her best friend knew exactly the why's and how's and what's of her. They had been through this day for the past two years, and it was always the same story. Raven stayed home and ate her weight in ice cream, while Clarke defied the weather and stayed out all night._

 _They were opposite in many things, but that one aspect was what made them inseparable. Today marked a bad day for the both of them, despite different reasons. They had been through Hades' territory together, and they had cheered each other's way up to the sky again. They had a bond no one could understand, not even Octavia._

 _They remained silent for a moment, Octavia knowing very well Clarke wouldn't enjoy small talk at this time of the day. Their sight travelled from the multiple naked trees surrounding them to their creepy shadows fluctuating as the moon's light went hiding itself behind the clouds._

" _Don't let me stop you from doodling in the snow," Octavia finally said after a few minutes._

 _Clarke smiled at the playful tone. She couldn't help it. Ever since she had been tall enough to play in the snow, she had made it her artistic playground, tracing lines and creating all kind of magical patterns of her own imagination._

 _She had mastered the art of decorating cars' windows without anyone noticing her, and the path ahead of her house always introduced a new design to its visitors once fresh snow fell from the sky._

 _She leaned down and started drawing what seemed to be a rudimentary version of a spiral galaxy._

 _It soon bloomed to a whole world born from stardust, obscur mysteries and cosmic discoveries. Clarke had always been a gifted artist, on any possible canvas, using any material at her disposition, but she enjoyed nothing more than using the surrounding nature to bring her imagination to life._

 _She drew the whole universe the way she imagined it to be. The space she used was tiny, but she made sure to include all the weird surfaced at her disposition, each of them offered by the surrounding environment, by rocks and torn roots. Her drawing portrayed a peculiar puzzle waiting to be solved. Despite how random the direction and continuity of her lines seemed, it all secretly spelled a single name, and Octavia picked up on that._

 _Clarke's hidden messages in her art was nothing new, and whoever knew the blonde closely had been trained to seek and find them. It was a classified knowledge._

" _How are you doing?"_

 _Octavia had this power of knowing exactly when Clarke was done with her drawing, and therefore, when it was safe to start a conversation with a fully attentive woman._

" _I'm good."_

" _Are you? Raven's worried."_

" _Again, Raven just said that so you would get out and look for me. She probably just wanted some time off too."_

" _Is there any time Raven doesn't twist her words to make me do something that I think is my idea at the first place?"_

 _Clarke smiled like someone holding a malicious secret in the deepest part of her soul._

 _Was she good? There were many different answers to that question. Half of them could smooth Octavia's worried tone, and the other half could increase the newborn storm in the Blake woman's eyes._

 _Was she good?_

 _She couldn't tell. Any other day of the year, her answer would've been an immediate yes, a confirmation that everything in her perfect life was exactly as everyone expected it to be : pefect. But today, tonight, there was no clear answer appearing in her mind. There was no yes or no, no right or wrong answer._

 _It felt like nothing was up to her anymore, nothing felt in her control anymore. There was nothing simple anymore, and everything she thought she knew transformed in a cryptic unreadable tale._

 _For the last two years, it had remained the same. At this time of the night, late in the evening, she was there, standing, sometimes in the snow, sometimes in the cold, sometimes both. Every year, she tried to figure out where her life went wrong, while Raven stayed inside the apartment they shared with Octavia._

 _Sometimes she broke down in tears, sometimes she didn't. Sometimes it felt like she was going to cry oceans, while other times, she was left with this excruciating feeling of being certain she was going to cry, but never being able to. And at those times, she felt incredibly lonely. This loneliness always kept her head down under a sea of feelings, all of them yelling at her that she would never be strong enough to heal._

 _There was no secret magic formula to get her out of this gloomed, somber atmosphere she was trapped in. It wasn't a feeling, it was... The way she was. It was her. Her entire being was made of atoms of melancholia and_ _slight heaviness. She breathed, and she fed the beast. Turning it off would not work, because it'd mean she'd be turning her entire being off, and that, she could not do without gruesome consequences._

 _She was nostalia itself._

" _We're not alone."_

 _Clarke turned her head to the direction Octavia was pointing and nodded. There was another constant in these annual rituals, and it summed itself up in the presence of an unknown woman, always at the same distance from them. For the past two years, they'd seen her standing there, just like they did._

 _The woman seemed to be their age. She always came and went in silence. Not once had Clarke and Octavia seen her accompagnied by someone else. She always remained immobile until her phone would ring, calling her back to where she belonged to._

" _I wonder what her story is," Octavia whispered._

" _I think some stories should remain undiscovered," Clarke muttered._

" _Like your drawing?"_

 _Clarke shrugged. She was well aware that Octavia knew what hidden message was traced under the first layer of her art. The scene she had just drawn secretly displayed letters, all of which gravitating around to ultimately form the hidden name of the man she onced called her best friend. The letters were unperceiptable at first glance._

 _It was an ephemerous memorial for a painfully permanent reality._

 _They stayed there until they heard the distinct cellphone tones, and watched as the familiar stranger left the place. Only then did they gather their own thoughts and drove back from the cemetery to their apartment._

 _The moment they stepped in their shelter from the cold, Raven announced a plan to the three women, and a month later, Clarke and the mechanic student were packing their bags and heading to the airport._

 _Lexa stood in front of the grave for what seemed to be an eternity. She could hear the two other women's voices from where she stood, but could not decipher words. It didn't bother her. She didn't want to stay surrounded by the sole company of the sound of the wind. Echoes of voices kept her grounded to the planet, and she prefered them over fighting against her own inner words._

 _She had witnessed, last year, the blonde woman breaking down, crying loudly and doing nothing to dry the tears from her cheeks. Even from her distance, Lexa had been able to distinguish the beauty of this stranger from the ugly mask sponsored by sadness. She had almost gave in and walked to offer help, when the taller unknown brunette had finally joined the broken woman._

 _Her ritual visit to her lover's grave had always been marked by the slight expectation of finding the duo already there, as if it was the only acceptable scene to her._

 _As soon as she confirmed their presence, she would walk and stand in front of the tombstone, tracing the engraved letters with her fingers. The muffled voices reminded her she was not alone, and consequently, helped her to keep her posture calm. Not being alone meant she needed to avoid falling apart._

 _It wasn't safe to show weakness to strangers._

 _She always would dream of a different outcome for the current situation, until the moment her cellphone would ring. Only then would she shake the despair off her body, and go back to her busy professional life._

 _She had no more time to spare for feelings, not anymore. One hour of her life, every year, that was it._

 _Anya would call, and every overwhelming sorrow she would feel would leave her soul._

 _It needed to._

 _Tonight, she had asked Anya to wait a bit longer before calling her. She wished to stay for as long as she could, because it was the last time she would come here for a few years, she'd decided._

 _Tomorrow, she would be leaving this city. She could not bear the weight of her constant loss all the time._

 _She could not walk in front of the same familiar buildings alone, when she had been fooling around them so many times before, with great company._

 _She could not see familiar faces and remind herself that they were not Costia, that they were not the one person she would trade her life for._

 _Not anymore._

 _Tomorrow, she would leave, and she would spend as much time away as possible._

* * *

"You're late."

"Nice to see you too, it's only been a month since you gave your last sign of life to your best friend," Anya deapanned at Lexa's lack of enthusiam.

"A best friend wouldn't be late to pick up her best friend from the airport after so much time."

Anya rolled her eyes and embraced the shortest woman. She had missed Lexa a lot more than she had thought she would.

Only a month in, and Lexa already returned from her supposed long term trip. Anya knew though, that her friend would be staying only a week before heading back into the wild. The simple fact that Lexa returned today was due to a work emergency that couldn't be solved without her.

It wasn't to visit Anya. It was work. Had it not been work, Lexa would still be gone, and Anya would still be waiting for news.

The thought made Anya sadder than she expected.

"I'm sorry," Anya apologized. "My cab took more time than I thought. I ran for my life, because I knew you'd throw me your deathly glance if I were late, but then I bumped into some crazy girl saying she'd lose her leg or something."

Lexa shook her head in disbelief. She knew Anya could invent lame excuses, but the last part didn't sound right.

She repositioned her bag on her shoulders and started walking toward the exit of the arrivals area. She hated that she was already back here, but that feeling was weak compared to how relieved she was to find Anya in a good mood. She had been scared that her improptuous departure would've been too much on their friendship, which had already became fragile after their loss.

"How was your trip to random little cities?" Anya asked as they waited for a taxi. "Also I'm sorry, I already rented your room to someone. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"I was not in random little cities, I've been hiking. You know I always get my energy amongst trees, just like you know I did not have access to the Internet those days."

"I could have gone with you."

A small silence grew between them, quickly dismissed when Anya added :

"I know you needed to be alone. I just, I could have."

"I'm going to New York after I'm done with this business problem," Lexa said. "I won't stay long."

"You hate big cities."

"There's a lot of things I hate that I had to deal with. I'm going to New York."

Anya nodded at the sharp tone, knowing there was no point in arguing with her friend.

Lexa had always had a hard time dealing with emotionally loaded conversations, and it had only worsened since the incident. There were many things Anya would do to help her friend, but forcing her into doing things she loathed was not one of them.

"Come on. I made sure to stock the fridge with all your favorite food. We're not sleeping tonight, I got tons of movies. Those boring documentaries and historical movies you enjoy."

They had met during high school, after being forced together in a team. Both girls had argued with the teacher that they did not know each other well, but that they were sure they wouldn't get along, They kept repeating that they both opposed to the idea of working on the same project together. Both girls had insisted as much as they could, but the teacher had promised them something good would come out of it.

Coincidently, they both hated this class, and the teacher that came along with it. They both had rolled their eyes excessively.

Suspicious, they had worked together. The whole time, Anya mostly did what Lexa ordered. They both just wanted to be done as fast as possible.

A few weeks later, they were inseparable. and ten years later, they had yet to find the teacher to thank him for insisting so much.

Anya had stayed by Lexa's side from the very beginning of her relationship with Costia, to the very end, against all odds, through health and sickness, through good times and bad times, through everything that sounded like they'd secretly all been married to each other.

Anya was the only person beside Costia who had ever seen Lexa falling apart in the middle of the night.

She was now the only person left who knew how to fix it.

When Costia had finally offered her last breath to this life, they both had gone through all existing stages of loss, and they both had dragged the other through more wicked ones. Only Anya had made it out alive.

Changed, definitely, but alive.

It had been very different for Lexa.

She was changed, but she hadn't survived the blow, not quite. She became a ghost of the person she used to be, always repeating nonsense scenarios in her head, alternative endings and imaginary miracles.

She clinged to a memory more than real life, and refused to let it go, refused to let it disappear because she was terrified of forgetting it.

Lexa knew she had lost a part of her somewhere along the way. She didn't feel alive anymore, and it had taken her a long time to realize that she wanted nothing more than to live, rather than survive.

It hadn't been too hard to realize, it had simply been incredibly challenging to accept.

She had claimed the only way to find herself again was to leave this town. This city was cursed, and the remedy lurked elsewhere. So she had left in a quest of a familiar self.

Alone.

The only reason she was back already was work. Then she would leave again.

Alone.

* * *

 **And it's a go for a new story!**

 **it will focus mainly on Clarke and Raven's POV in the first chapters, and Lexa will gradually take more importance.**

 **Apologies for the mistakes, English isn't my first language.**

 **Spoilers alert: more angst to come.**

 **Ideas or travel anecdotes? - McEvilQueen on twitter or here**


	2. Invisible

**Sort of filler chapter, but with things happening.**

 **Locations:**

 **Clarke and Raven: NYC**

* * *

 **Invisible**

The two women were ascending the last few miles from sky to earth, and Raven had finally stopped bothering her friend.

Clarke was at war with her thoughts.

It was violent, and ugly, and incredibly destructive.

Or the absence of actions.

It could be seen in both ways, there was no middle.

She was either running away from something, or racing toward something. She couldn't be doing both, it was what she had decided.

From her first step outside her house this morning, to the current way she sat right now, it had been impossible for her to turn her mind off. Her brain kept spinning in the small cavity that was her head, firing neurons and attacking her rationality.

She had done it.

She had managed to get out of her house, out of her routine. She had managed to free herself from the chains that kept her locked to her familiar life.

She could jump now, defy the impossible, away from there. She felt her heart racing and pumping adrenaline at the idea.

She was terrified.

There was no other way to describe her feelings right now. She was terrified, and she could clearly see now the thousands of reasons why she should've stayed in bed this morning.

She was scared of returning an entire different person. She didn't want to forget who she was, where she came from, but paradoxically, it was the exact goal of her journey.

She knew changing was inevitable, but she hated it with a passion. She wished she didn't have to change and become a different person, become someone able to deal with all this pressure threatening to kill her sanity. But she also knew that if she remained the same person she had been in the last few months, she would not make it out alive. She would end up in a worse state than she already was in, and the simple thought made her want to rip her head off.

She wanted to evolve into a greater person, but she secretly hoped she could regress to being an innocent five years old whose sole purpose in life was to draw a perfectly circular yellow sun.

She was made from contradictions constantly bumping into one another like a solar system in formation. One half of her body wanted to run back in the safety of everything she was used to, and the other wanted to rocket past Pluto to find shelter in another galaxy.

She wondered if everyone making life-changing decisions felt the same way, or if she was simply made of too many worries. She questioned what was so hard about those decisions, those so-called choices she made.

They weren't really choices.

She never would have chosen to have her best friend killed in a dumb car accident.

She never would've given Wells an earlier death as Christmas' gift.

She never would have picked Raven's boyfriend at the time to be the driver of the car.

She never would have chosen to feel like she had wasted years on anger when she could have had the best memories instead.

If anyone asked her, she would have chosen to exchange all those events for everything she owned.

Everything she'd ever owned, everything she owned, and everything she would ever own.

In this life and the next.

She desperately wanted to find the ground on which she could stand tall, free from the profound sorrow that had taken home in her mind.

But everywhere she stepped, the soil transformed to quicksand, and she couldn't escape.

She glanced outside and sighed. Even the view couldn't soothe her mind.

She was still so high in the sky, miles away from home, and yet, she could feel her entire soul left behind, condemned on the ground to read the same name over and over engraved on a familiar tombstone.

She was convinced that even if the plane crashed and disappeared in flames, her soul would still not be able to move on.

* * *

New York City, the epicenter of a rushed life characterized by artistic innovations and technology, finally appeared to be within Clarke and Raven's reach. It was a place where the danger of trading one's soul for materialistic expectations was omnipresent.

Exhausted was an understatement when their plane finally landed at JFK International airport, after only five hours of flight. The lack of sleep from last night's departure party, combined with their earlier morning flight, was crashing on them despite the sun being high in the sky.

Sleep had remained a distant stranger in the plane, as Raven was too busy focusing on the view, and being in awe of the sky's beauty from the window, poking Clarke at every detail. Raven was amazed at the endless number of skyscrapers. Both women came from a small town in California, where everyone knew everything, and this scene was a radical change from their usual routine.

They still had to catch a cab to their small rented apartment in Williamsburg, the newly artsy popular district in Brooklyn. Granted, backpacking the world usually didn't include fancy apartments, but both women had agreed on a minimal of comfort, and picked a few destinations in which they had a real place to stay.

Raven's adventurous mind didn't necessary mean she was ready to conquer the world by skipping from one youth hostel to another on her first grand trip.

Despite the numerous orange cones and detoured routes, they managed not to fall asleep on their way to the two bedrooms place they rented online. The door had three different locks, one which had a pin number that Raven was sure she was going to forget, and therefore claiming that she and Clarke would have to remain stuck together forever.

The place was bigger than they expected. Two rooms, one living room with a couch categorized "I will come back and steal it" by Clarke, and a small kitchen, which door lead to a tiny balcony.

As soon as every paper was signed and every key was given, they headed out, leaving nothing but their bags dumped on the living room's floor. It was around one in the afternoon, and they had a few things to take care of before visiting the city.

They found themselves buying weekly passes for public transportation before walking in the nearest grocery store. They didn't have a lot of budget for food, and eating out for every meal was definitely not an option.

"Just a few vegetables! Salad, tomatoes, the basics!" Clarke's voice resonated as the two of them were trying to compromise on their expenses.

"You never eat vegetables when you're home, and you're telling me that you'll eat them when you don't even have parents here to congratulate you?" Raven pointed out, unimpressed.

"If we're about to eat pasta all week, I need some diversity in the sauces."

"Tomato sauce already has tomatoes in it, no need to buy more. We'll just take some meat to mix it with and we'll be good. It's New York. No one eats healthy in New York, leave that to LA and their healthy vegan trends."

"You do realize you just insulted every living person in two of the largest cities in America, right?"

Raven just shrugged and put the bag of tomatoes back where it belonged, on the counter, far from their food She stuck her tongue out at a pouting Clarke and grabbed a green apple, the smallest she could find.

"Here. Vitamins for the week," she declared proudly.

They chose a tiny box of nuts after Clarke insisted on getting proteins if they were going to walk everyday.

They chose a giant pack of gummy bears after Raven insisted on getting enough sugar to get them going during those walks.

They managed to make it to the frozen area without arguing on cereals and, surprisingly, on the shape of their pasta.

"If we're only home for breakfast and late night dinner, I'd suggest pizza and drinks."

"Raven, we're not going to buy frozen pizza when we're in New York. That's the golden rule of being in here. We'll get enough fresh and perfect pizza for lunch."

It took less than a second for Raven to block Clarke's path.

"Did you just imply what I think you just implied?"

The tone was dead serious, and Clarke almost, _almost_ , regretted bringing her friend with her. She knew grocery shopping could only lead to the ultimate destruction of friendship, along with Monopoly and Mario Kart.

"You know I didn't mean it that way," Clarke sighed.

They had had this conversation a thousand times already, and the joke was becoming a relentless subject of insides and life lessons.

"There is never enough pizza to feed Raven Reyes. Repeat after me, there is never..."

"There is never enough pizza to feed your oversized ego," Clarke finished, taking a few boxes she knew were going to be empty by their third day here.

Raven had grown up in a house marked by too many shattered glass bottles and too many echoes of loud screams haunting its walls. She came from a broken place, where cracks in the walls and vile insults were fixed by weak glue, where foundations were barely holding together. Her home was a refuge where the danger lived, rather than being the safe place she could have used. It painted a life where dreams turned black as soon as they dared appear in her mind.

She had had a happy childhood until the age of seven, filled with birthday parties and trips to McDonalds, and playing hide and seek, and bringing friends over for a sleepover. After her father's sudden departure, her mother had become a recluse, isolating herself from her responsibilities and the external world.

She had learned to take care of herself at a young age after the woman who claimed being her mother had stopped deserving such title.

She kept finding this unknown woman instead, one whose sole purpose in life seemed to be drinking.

She had tried to understand it was an illness, and not a choice, never a choice.

She kept walking on dirty clothes on the floor, and often woke up to the sounds of her mother selling herself and her dignity to receive enough money to survive another day.

She had tried to understand it was a necessity, a need to buy more food.

She kept being harassed by those faceless men walking around the house like they owned it.

Her mother was too far gone in the attractive illusions of alcohol to protect her.

Raven had stopped understanding.

She had stopped trying to fix something already too far gone down the path toward destruction.

She had become the single parent for the ghost that once constituted her family.

This new life had come at the cost of her childhood, which had jump off the hard reality cliff.

Whenever she felt down and had a little extra money, she'd trade ramen noodles and canned soup for a greasy pizza from the nearest restaurant. Pizza was her comfort food, and it would have been her everyday food if it wasn't for Clarke forcing her to eat better every once in a while.

It reminded her of late night movies filled with laughs, rather than empty bottles. It reminded her of three people cuddling on a comfortable couch, rather a lifeless woman who kept passing out on it.

Clarke knew two things that would never change with her friend: her love for pizza, and her irresistible urge to hide her true emotions behind a world full of humor.

"Perfect. You learn fast, I knew you would" Raven winked as they went to pay.

As soon as they finished unloading their food in the fridge, they got ready to head back outside again. The weather was a burning one, but there was no way they were going to stay prisoners within four walls. They bathed in sunscreen, filled their bags with bottles of water and walked to the nearest metro station to join Manhattan.

They practically ran outside when they finally reached Canal Street station, which lead them right to the heart of Chinatown. Immediately, they were engulfed by a wave of people crossing the busy street. They were surrounded by voices and screams and sounds of all sort, not to mention the mix of suspicious smells floating around.

From their little quiet Arkadia district, in the middle of nowhere, this felt like landing on a foreign planet.

Clarke immediately put her map away. If there was one thing she didn't want to look like, it was a tourist. Her overly protective mother had told her all kind of misadventures, and the blonde wanted to avoid being the prey of suited predators.

"We are at the border between Chinatown and Little Italy," Clarke spoke to no one in particular. "In other words, we are still in the States, but we are in two other countries at the same time."

"I can't believe we're here. This is it, Clarke. This is the whole reason we've been through this shit at home. We went through hell so we could finally get the motivation to get out of there." Raven squealed at the sight ahead of them. "And this isn't even Times Square!"

The city was huge. It was an impressive mess of different cultures together. It was everywhere around them.

They weren't visiting the city because they wanted to.

The city allowed them their stay, and it could kick them out whenever it pleased.

It took their breath away and didn't give it back. It took the way the saw themselves and gave them back a changed one. It made them feel like giants, for building such impressive structures, but it also made them feel like tiny ants as they tried to find a certain logic to this industrial maze.

It made them feel lost in a sea of foreign characters coming from all kind of books, and random pictograms from all countries, but at the same time, they were overwhelmed with a strange feeling of being home, of belonging here. This place crushed their vision of the world to offer them an updated one, and they could not refute it even if they wanted to.

It was everything they thought it would be, and the complete opposite at the same time. They had trouble imagining how everyone and everything was invisible from space.

"I get why Wells was so obsessed with this place," Raven murmured.

Despite the cacophonous atmosphere around them, Clarke heard her friend's word as if they had been yelled through nothingness.

Clarke couldn't process everything. Her thoughts were twirling at the light of speed, flash back of her best friend flying all over her mind. Wells had dreamed of a life in New York, mastering his own art and promoting Clarke's. Not one day had gone by without him reminding her that it wasn't such a crazy idea.

Now that she stood there, not quite alone, but not quite feeling like she belonged either, she understood his fascination for a land that refused to stay still.

She wondered if she would ever feel like she belonged somewhere.

She was lost, and even if someone found her, picked her up, brought her home and protected her, she still remained endlessly drifting between worlds.

It seemed they had to look everywhere at the same time if they didn't want to miss anything. It was as if the city itself wanted them to miss something, so that they would absolutely have to come back eventually. Every single part of this place was made to attract them, to transform them, like magnets inexplicably attracted to this world, the exact opposite of the one they'd been raised in.

"Who in the world would need so many useless souvenirs?" Raven pointed the numerous stands offering different merchandise.

It was a bazar of I Love NY. There was not a single street corner not covered with clothes, jewelry, sunglasses, towels, and all kind of different accessories. It was a grandiose display of cheap souvenirs claiming to worship New York, while ironically all being manufactured and created in China Itself.

"Are you saying you don't want to redecorate our apartment with tiny New York hearts because I'm heartbroken at the thought," Clarke pretended to wipe a tear.

"I'll watch you self-destroy with cheap useless accessories while I save my ass far from there."

They skipped most of the district, stopping only to try a bubble tea place they've been told served divine drinks. The impressive display of Chinatown was not enough to let them waste too much time in its stinking corners. They didn't know any meal they were in hurry to try either, as they had already signed the Only Pasta Bill.

Wandering through the endless streets turned out to be quite an adventure, as they stopped by all kind of shops and little hidden art galleries on their way to Little Italy. The Italian island in the middle of American's land smelled way better than its Chinese twin. Every road and alley was filled with scents of fresh sauces, bricks oven cooked pizza and delightful sweets of all sorts.

They had to remind themselves an infinite number of times that this famous metropolitan area was their first stop, but definitely not their last. Every dollar spent here meant one less for their future discoveries.

They went from May to December in less than a second by visiting a Christmas store that sold every possible ornaments.

Clarke and Raven's notion of Christmas had been shattered two years ago. It felt oddly good to realize it wasn't the same for the rest of the world.

They went from the twenty first century to the sixties by entering a small old-fashioned shop. They went from the technological planet to a prehistoric one in less than a minute.

They went through all areas of time and space in just a few hours, and by the time their bodies were reminding them of the existence of food, they had travelled enough to fill a lifetime, in less than a day since their departure.

They ran everywhere, like there was tomorrow, like they were on a time limit, like they didn't have a whole week planned to uncover every hidden secret of the Big Apple. Any notion of space was lost to them, and no distance was too great for them to cross.

"I'm dead."

"You're dramatic," Clarke said, though her feet were also screaming for help.

"I'm a dramatic dead," Raven mumbled as they reached Washington Park and took a break.

They had walked from Chinatown, to Little Italy, all the way through Soho until NY University. They had discovered architectural wonders from the walls of ancient buildings and their endless stairs. They had entered little shops full of magical items. One of them had been a technological cave full of secrets for future inventors. The concept was similar to a game's, as all they had to do was assemble tiny electronic blocks to create almost everything, including a wall that made music fluctuating along the electric currents in their bodies.

They were currently lying on the grass of Washington Square Park, Clarke absently sharing small talk with Raven as she drew the contours of the Washington Square Arch in her pad. The small fountain graced them with a relaxing melody. It was the middle of May, but students from all departments were enjoying a quiet break in-between classes.

"It's only six!"

"I'm starved! And I know we said we would limit eating out, so why don't we just go home and relax for tonight. We have the whole week to explore. We won't get anything done if we die of exhaustion tonight."

Clarke rolled her eyes but agreed. Their water bottles were empty, and they were currently surviving on their second Starbucks drink.

"Brooklyn bridge to home?" The blonde proposed. "We'll sit in the metro, and I've always wanted to see the architecture... Draw it a little too. You can sit on the bridge."

"You're such an art nerd."

"I'll let you rest for another fifteen minutes, then we're up. You didn't convince me to go travelling just so you could try out every park to figure out which one's the most comfortable to sleep in."

"Now that sounds like a great travelling idea, don't you think? I would recommend it."

They almost fell asleep in the park, and again on their way to Brooklyn Bridge – City Hall station, and only Clarke's motivation to draw the giant metal structure pushed them to get up and walk the remaining day away. The sun was slowly getting ready to disappear behind the skyline, but the warm weather was going nowhere. They felt dirty, sweating all their energy away, but only once well engaged on the bridge did they realize it was worth the view.

The path rose above the cars. It then separated to avoid cyclists colliding with walkers. Everywhere they looked, Manhattan was obscured by wires of all sizes, and the central structure of the bridge, made of stones of all sizes, seemed small from their departure point.

When they reached the middle of the architectural treasure, the same structure dominated them from all sides.

When they looked up, they could barely see the orange toned sky anymore, as it was hidden behind man's work.

When they looked down, they could barely fight the wave of vertigo that threatened to turn their world upside down at the sight of cars and, most importantly, distant sparkling blue water.

"it's beautiful," Clarke hummed.

Then they looked behind, and the sight of Manhattan buildings rising from the ground, tracing the skyline, separating the view in two distinct opposite realms, stole their breath away. The artificial world seemed to be trying to embrace the natural firmament, never winning its fight against the rules of wildness.

"Smile!" Raven encouraged as they snapped an umpteenth selfie.

Their cameras could not capture the immortality of the moment, no matter how desperately they tried and wished to.

The frame was never large enough to fit all the detailed scene. The focus was never precise enough to make out all the little singularities that made the view truly magical. Their machines were simply not perfect enough to give the landscape its true worth, and Clarke thought that they might never be.

There was something missing from pictures and videos, something that real life experiences held preciously in their heart.

Clarke thought nothing could ever make her heart flutter as the real moment did.

Men and women had explored every inch of this planet, had uncover the deepest secrets that made life possible, had combined pieces of woods and metals to defy the laws of gravity, had broken boundaries by crossing surreal distances and diving underwater, had written countless words to explain the origin of time itself, and yet, they still had difficulty to understand the precarious importance of technology when it came to memories.

It was the same when Clarke remembered all the best times she'd have with Wells. It just could not be matched by material souvenirs, no matter how long she'd spent, examining pictures and drinking the sight of past videos. No matter how many records, how many pages of her journals she read, how many objects she had inherited from her friend, none matched his real presence.

It had been a little over two years, and she already could not remember his voice.

She could not remember him the way she wanted to.

She could not remember the way he laughed, the way he would pronounce some words, the way he would stutter when embarrassed, the way his voice would rise above when he was angry. She could not remember the way he said her name, or the way his arms felt when he embraced her whenever she dared doubt her capacities.

She could not remember the way he ate, or drank, or did anything at all.

She could not remember anything about the way he fully existed, but she was constantly flooded by memories of his face tattooed with fresh blood and deep burnt marks.

It wasn't fair, the way his last minutes had been spent in pain, the way his exit didn't illustrate the great person he had always been.

She wondered if he had even walked this earth, or if her brain had imagined it since the very beginning.

How easier would it be if she could fool herself into believing she was, in fact, inhabited by madness.

The thought made her eyes tear up. Wells would have been the one to remind her to stay far from the edges of the bridge that separated life and death, to make sure she was not about to fall, before even enjoying the view.

"I'm crashing. Tell me when your future masterpiece is over," Raven brought her back to the present time as she moved to monopolize one of the rare free benches.

As Clarke traced the first contours of the bridge, she wondered why she tried so hard to fit everything on a piece of paper, when she was well aware that the true wonders of this place could not be represented.

Maybe she just enjoyed trying.

Maybe she just couldn't help but try.

As she colored the empty shapes she had traced, she wondered why such a full bloomed city looked so empty from far, and why every single person, despite being millions together, could not be seen at all from such limited distance.

It seemed as if they had evaporated from the world, as if they had never existed at all. The city looked crammed by buildings, but voided of life itself. Nothing was left but uninhabited grey meaningless walls.

And as she finished the second drawing of their long trip, she wondered if that was all they truly were, invisible, no matter how hard they tried to leave a trace of their passage.

"We're small, aren't we?" Raven's voice made Clarke flinch out of her mind. "I know you're thinking about it. You're always away when you're drawing. You're lost. Even O said she couldn't reach you."

"Is that why you insisted so much on going with me, so I wouldn't accidently step over the bridge?"

Raven shrugged.

"I wanted to see the world too," she answered, "you're not the only one who needed a break. I already felt small in our town. Imagine at this sight, I feel like I don't exist anymore. I could disappear and the world would never know."

Raven was right. Clarke hated that thought.

"I would know!" Clarke frowned.

"I know you would. I'm just saying it. We've been gone a day. My mom probably doesn't even know I'm gone because they're pumping her blood with meds that take her personality away. We haven't seen one percent of this planet and we already feel like we're stardust. It's kind of crazy, don't you think, how fast you could be gone? You could just disappear, make your identity a new one. You can become a whole new person no one has ever heard of. You could cease to walk this earth altogether! No one's going to stop for me."

Bridges had this power to make people talk, to make them think, really think. It was as if the physical existence of bridges made people build their own ones, between their soul and their voice.

"I would stop."

"I know you would," Raven smiled sadly. "You're the only one who did. You're the only one who stopped for me that day. You're the only one, Clarke."

The grey, black and brown tones from the world of innovation contrasted with the sapphire and pearly colors from the sky. The scene was out of this world, and instead of admiring it, they were questioning their entire existence.

It wasn't supposed to go this way. They were supposed to laugh and take pictures, and smile while making goofy faces. They were supposed to run from one edge of the bridge to another, making silly jokes about everything.

Clarke sighed.

Raven was just as emotional as she was. The mechanic student was simply better at hiding it behind laughs and humor, while Clarke could only draw her feelings away. They both dealt with weights on their shoulders, and monsters hiding in the back of their minds. Perhaps the feeling of standing so close yet so far from the rest of the crowd made them think more than they had prepared themselves to.

"And Octavia," the blonde gently reminded.

"Octavia didn't stop for me," Raven let out a small laugh. "Octavia stopped the whole world for me, but she didn't stop for me. That girl will never slow down. Fear not, I'm learning to catch up with her. When we get back, I'll make sure to let her know I've got her back."

Clarke knew all of Raven's demons. It was partly the reason why she'd accepted to start this trip in the first place. She was aware of Raven's need to release the pressure, just like her own needs were aching to escape from the past's sharpened blade.

Octavia had been a common anchor to the two of them, making appointments and excuses when the two women could not do it themselves. She had punched a few ignorant people after Clarke had been victim of biphobia, and had keyed the many cars of Raven's enemies from suspicious groups the mechanic student had known during her darkened years.

She had engaged her brother in the cause, in-between their usual mischiefs. The Blake siblings had moved every possible physical obstacle out of Clarke and Raven's way, leaving them space to heal their psychological wounds as much as they could.

"I'm pretty sure she knows," Clarke poked Raven's side.

The artist had witnessed too many times the way Raven broke down after midnight, not believing that she truly wasn't alone anymore, that she had friends to support her. Despite Clarke's close friendship to Raven, only memories that include both Clarke and Octavia could prevent the storm from getting worse.

It didn't change the fact that Clarke just knew deep in her bones that Raven had spent most of her life feeing like she didn't exist at all to this world. And Clarke knew that Raven understood the many ways the blonde had wished to disappear from the surface of the globe after Wells' abrupt death.

They both knew so much. They both wished they didn't have to know so much.

Travelling the world simply meant trying another coping mechanism to tame the darkest side that inhabited them, the one that threatened them to vanish entirely.

Travelling the world also offered the chance for Raven to re-evaluate her friendship with Octavia, a relationship that had more twists and plot holes that she wanted to admit.

They had grown apart since Lincoln had entered their lives, and while Clarke knew Raven and Octavia's friendship was made to resist nuclear wars, it didn't change the fact that they was always a certain gap between the two of them, as if they just couldn't find the right place to stand together anymore.

"You're not invisible to me," Clarke whispered after the quiet confession, as they stared ahead in direction of nowhere. "You're my best friend. I'd pick you first anytime."

Raven's insecurities were coming back to haunt her, and nothing could stop them from piercing the small women's strong armor.

She stood small in a world inhabited by giants.

She whispered in a place where people kept screaming.

She crawled when everyone kept hurrying beside her.

She blinked, whereas the universe never closed its eyes.

She was dying in a world that only welcomed the livings.

"I'd pick you first," Clarke's repeated.

* * *

They arrived home just past nine and, intuitively, Clarke grabbed the first frozen pizza from their fridge, forgetting all about their huge reserve of pasta.

Clarke answered her parents' messages. She had promised to keep them updated once a day, and one day in her trip, she was already regretting it. She didn't want to remind herself of the disappointment she had seen in her mother's eyes when she had declared she would take a break from school. She didn't want to remind herself of her father's gentle embrace and his eyes conveying pity as they said goodbye.

She wanted a clean cut with them, with this city and its history, at least for the length of her journey.

She wanted to disappear, and the words from the bridge's conversation appeared in her mind. New York was the perfect place to do so, but she could never get away from the internet, and wi-fi signals and the late phone calls she would get if she went all incognito.

She digitally left prints wherever she went, and she wished she could turn all of them off.

She found herself pinching her arm to make sure she was still there. She didn't know why, but late nights always made her feel like she was awake, and the rest of the world wasn't, no matter where on planet Earth.

She was made of empty space between every one of the atoms that composed her, and sometimes, she felt like space was all there was. She felt that no matter how many people called out her name, she could never hear them.

There were such moments, when she didn't feel like she existed anymore, when she felt she was made of neutrinos and could not interact with matter anymore. She wrote letters to herself and tore them apart. She wondered if her existence could be confirmed by her own voice, or if she absolutely needed to hear it from an external source.

In those times, she just wanted someone to remind her she was here.

No.

Not just someone.

A specific someone.

A someone made for her, for Clarke's little insanity.

In those times, there was no one by her side and her existence remained pure abstraction.

In those times, mornings always seemed to take an infinite amount of time to chase away the darkness of the nights.

* * *

"Let's recapitulate. You were supposed to stay only three days for work. You found out there was a mistake in your plane tickets, and now you're stuck here for a week. You've already spent two of those four extra days being home! Time to get out!"

Anya's voice rang in Lexa's sleepy head with a volume that was not acceptable at such time of the morning.

"Go away," Lexa mumbled as her friend tried to remove the covers from her body.

She was so deep in sleep that she couldn't move, but if she could, Anya would have been thrown out violently of the room. She had finished her official business. If she wanted to lie on the couch and not get up, it was her problem. She had just came back from an intense three weeks hike, and she deserved a break before heading to New York.

"You cannot avoid the outside world just because every corner reminds you of Costia! I won't let you! You were fine before this whole trip idea started. You went out. You tried to socialize, and you even made sure I had a life too. Now you're back temporary and you can't even look outside the window, it's ridiculous," Anya continued.

Lexa let out an animalistic growl, and Anya laughed out loud. The sleeping woman was trying to sound fierce, but all Anya could think about was a kitten getting dragged out of his comfort zone by his mother.

"Don't force me to go all water balloons ballistics on you," Anya threatened.

Lexa's eyes shot lightning as she painfully sat on the couch, allowing her best friend space to sit next to her. Straightening her messy hair, Lexa sighed at the victory look dancing in Anya's eyes. Lexa had no doubt that the threat was not an empty one. She had tasted it in the past, and the cold unexpected shower had been inked in her mind for the rest of her life.

Costia had tasted such medicine as well, when Lexa had forced her to stay in bed despite Anya wanting to go out with the two of them. Costia had taken revenge upon Lexa, dropping a bucket of ice on her girlfriend's head the next morning.

They sat in silence as Lexa slowly came back to life, sipping the warm coffee her roommate had the consideration to make. She flexed her back and rotated her sore shoulders from the still too recent weight of her hiking gear. The couch was a five stars hotel compared to the hard dirty ground she had slept on recently, and she did not enjoy being told to leave it.

"I refuse to go out today, and tomorrow. I leave the city after that and will then spend my entire time outside. That is plenty for now."

"You're pathetic."

"I am exhausted," Lexa admitted, "by many different aspects. That doesn't mean I'm pathetic."

Anya quietly shook her head. Lexa saying she was exhausted was probably the closest Anya would ever come to hear her friend's vulnerability. But Lexa didn't need to explicitly say she was exhausted, Anya could see it.

In fact, anyone with sight could see Lexa's dark shadows under her eyes. They grew a bit more everyday, no matter how many hours of sleep the woman got. It made her look like a ghost of the fully alive woman Anya had grown closer to over the years.

Anya knew Lexa's tiredness was linked to the fact that she had never fully healed from Costia's departure to the other side. Anya had tried her best to stop Lexa from walking toward a path of self-destruction, but she had come to accept that she was powerless in that sphere. She could only hope that the world itself would bring Lexa the rightful spark in her eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just, it pains me to watch you like this."

Lexa nodded. She was well aware that her behavior did nothing to help the situation she was in. Waiting for the imminent departure, wishing to run as far as possible to never come back, it was not the way she usually dealt with life's challenges.

She shrugged at the thought. She hadn't signed up for this.

Life's challenges had not included the death of her lover in her mind.

Life's challenges were not supposed to consist of sleepless nights spent at the hospital, hoping and praying for a miracle.

Life's challenges were not supposed to be in the form of the miracle cure revealing itself to be a curse.

Everything had changed, and so had she. All she did was adapting to the situation, and if Anya couldn't accept it, then Lexa would be gone in two days regardless of their friendship's state.

Lexa just couldn't support acting like she was frozen in times. It felt like someone had taken a photograph of her, and now she was stuck in the same position, in the same frame forever.

"I subscribed you to a travelling app," Anya suddenly spoke, half hiding behind the closest cushion she could find.

Lexa's eyes widened exponentially at the thought.

"You what?" Lexa's tone was dangerously low, and Anya knew it was in those times that her lack of diplomacy would drag her to the bottom of the darkest hole.

"I was bored, and you were asleep, and refusing my help! You left your phone unlocked," Anya explained. "I just downloaded some application for travelers to see how it worked, and next thing I know, I sent a message to one person currently in New York to see how it worked."

Lexa's arm flew to hit Anya's shoulder. She jumped off the couch and stood in front of her friend, shadowing the poor woman whose eyes remained strictly on the floor.

"You WHAT?"

"You gave me no choice," Anya protested. "I can't trust you alone for months in the world when I know you won't bother sending me a message at least every two days."

The double meaning of those words didn't get lost to any of them.

Lexa could hear the hurtful tone behind the defensive one, and her heart skipped a beat. She had never wanted to hurt Anya, but her friend had being at the exact receiving point for collateral damages done by Lexa's terrible skills of dealing with loss.

Lexa had never wanted to make Anya feel helpless, or worse, like she was a bad friend. She had never imagined her behavior would affect Anya's life so much, no matter how close they were.

Truth was, she had never taken the time to stop and think about it.

Maybe she was too far gone in her own insane reality, or maybe she had been terrified of facing Anya's words if her friend knew how twisted Lexa's thoughts could get, but the harm was done.

The green eyed woman felt an army of guilty molecules making her way to her soul, but it didn't stop her to voice her thoughts.

"So you just happened to be coerced to message a pure stranger about my whereabouts? Who forced you?" Lexa angrily asked. "She could be a serial killer, and you could have just sign my death warrant."

"YOU." Anya spitted back. "You forced me. I wanted to give you time, but I've had enough. Two years. Two years since Costia died. You've done little to nothing but playing pretend, and work, and bury yourself with false excuses to avoid moving on."

Lexa's eyes threw daggers, but the young woman did not deny the accusation. Anya was right.

"Besides, what's the worst that could happen?" Anya rolled her eyes.

"Well, for one, she could answer," Lexa's cold tone stated.

"Relax, I just picked whoever was cute and not active for a while. Your chances of actually getting an answer are lower than your odds of getting out of this house anytime soon. She comes from here too, so you're not total strangers."

Lexa took a deep breath. She knew, she even expected, Anya to care for her mental state considering she'd just spent two days watching historical documentaries and doing nothing concrete, but it didn't stop her from being angry at her friend. Anya had no rights to send messages to strangers on her name.

So she wasn't the most energetic person in the world right now. Was it such a tragedy? Lexa thought the complete opposite. She saw it as a well-deserved break before departing for the second part of her journey, which would last way longer than the short hike she had just done.

She didn't want to go outside because coming back so early to this town was too overwhelming, too unexpected.

Being back here earlier only showed her that nothing had changed, that she still missed a part of herself. Being back here reminded her of everything she was trying to run away from, everything she was intimately tied to.

This town was a broken record, stuck on the worse night of her life playing over and over again in her head.

Lexa had never felt the need to reflect on her actions' consequences to the people around her. All she knew was that the urge to get out of this town was becoming unsupportable, the pressure of flashbacks imprisoning her whole existence and squeezing it until nothing was left but pain.

"It doesn't matter where she comes from," Lexa finally answered. "I won't come back."

"What?"

Lexa didn't repeat.

Anya's facial expression turned to incomprehension. Hurt appeared in her eyes, and the blonde woman pointed her index finger at her friend. The implications of this simple sentence were too heavy to remain unexplored.

She would be damned if she allowed Lexa to simply go away.

"You don't mean it," Anya whispered.

Lexa remained silent. Words could not possible be enough to explain her state of mind right now, and she was not going to try to justify her decisions.

"You don't give up," Anya insisted, "You never did. You don't. It's not who you are. You don't run away. You don't get to run away and leave me behind and act like everything's fixed just because you're in another country."

"Enough," Lexa hissed with a tone that left no place for discussion.

Lexa wasn't giving up. She was starting again somewhere else. She wasn't giving up. She would never give up all the memories that forged who she was. She would never give up the city that made sense to her.

She kept repeating in head, over and over again, that she wasn't giving up, because there was nothing to give up. Everything was gone. It had ended two years ago. She couldn't see another beginning here, not in those conditions, not even with Anya by her side. She had searched for months, and now, she judged it was time for her to move on.

Elsewhere.

"You don't! From the moment we met, you were this stubborn idiot girl trying to convince some teacher older than your own parents that she was wrong! You carried Costia on your back many times, and you beat the hell out of whoever crossed your path. You didn't give in to anyone's demands and you know why? Because you were the one demanding, and the rest of the world listened. That's how it always worked."

Lexa stayed quiet. She wasn't one to speak much, and only Anya knew how to push back her limits.

"You can't run away from who you are, Lex. You can't be this person who travel, and promote careless behavior and impulsive plans, and leave everything behind. It's not you. It's not who you fundamentally are. You can't just cease to exist here. It's not how it works."

"You don't know who I am anymore."

Lexa didn't add anything.

She wished she didn't have to say more.

She wished she could stay here and support Anya and move on, but it was like asking for the sun to stop shining. It was like asking for the Earth to stop rotating, for the gravity to stop attracting, for the rain to never fall again. It was like asking a newborn to climb Mount Everest and a bird to dive in the Mariana Trench.

It was like asking the dead to come back to life.

It just couldn't be.

If she didn't know who she was anymore, how could she expect Anya to know?

Everything she was, everything she used to be, it was all Costia's. Even after witnessing her lover losing energy day after day, Lexa was still undeniably Costia's. Her identity was defined by Costia's presence when she was mentally absent, by Costia's reactions to her actions, by Costia's answers to her questions.

Everything she did was in harmony with Costia's decisions, and everything she owned was still Costia's as well.

She was incapable to become her own person. She was incapable of finding the boundaries that made her Lexa, and not the Lexa that was part of a duo.

She was incapable of changing the way she existed, because she had no idea who she had to become to get better.

She feared she would stop existing if she let Costia's presence completely vanish.

And she didn't want to become anyone else but Costia's Lexa. She hated the thought of being someone else, because it would separate her from the one person she couldn't live without.

Everything she was could only function with Costia's presence, because the other woman was her other half. And she couldn't reach for her full potential if half of her was missing, who possible could?

Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of what she lost, not what she had to gain. Everything she heard, she could relate to a memory she had with a ghost. Every word she spoke sounded like it was meant to be for someone who wasn't there anymore.

She didn't want to change, but she perpetually felt like she was being forced to.

But Costia was everywhere, and Lexa was nowhere to be found.

"What did you say?" Lexa finally asked, her green eyes meeting Anya's.

"Nothing wrong."

Lexa frowned suspiciously at her friend.

"Who?"

"You don't know her."

"I am not demanding the results of a polygraph test. I am asking for a name, anything so I don't appear completely clueless if she answers! A name, Anya." Lexa ordered.

Anya judged the situation and offered a tiny smile as a try to erase the sudden outburst from a few seconds ago.

"See? I told you, Lex. You demand, and the world listens."

It wasn't like Lexa could delete the message anyway. She could disclose the name and know that Lexa would not attempt to chase the stranger down. There was nothing that would hint Lexa on that stranger's exact location in space. For all they knew, the woman had been inactive because she didn't use the application anymore. She could be gone from all surface of Earth.

Anya sighed again, and capitulated when Lexa's eyes became raging hurricanes once again.

"Some woman named Clarke Griffin."

* * *

She was dreaming, wide awake.

She was made of apathetic energy.

Lexa tried really hard to ignore the fact that her phone was on her desk and that it had just buzzed a few minutes ago. She pretended it didn't exist. She pretended phones didn't exist in this reality.

When it failed, she pretended she didn't exist in this reality.

When both failed, she sighed loudly at her behavior.

She had looked quickly at this Clarke Griffin's profile earlier. The attractive blonde woman's eyes seemed to bore into her soul through the screen. It only said her name, age, gender, country of origin and countries she was going to visit. There was a small section for her to add something, but nothing was written.

Anya really had picked the first one inactive, but attractive, person she could find, and the thought made Lexa slightly smile.

She focused on the book she was reading, reading the same sentence for the fifth time. The words just didn't print in her retinas. She couldn't concentrate on anything and it frustrated her.

This book was Costia's.

It had been Lexa's object of comfort whenever she felt down, and she never had enough of reading it in hard times. She could shut out the entire world, the most violent earthquakes and meteorites ravaging the planet, just to read that book. It smelled like Costia. It carried her memories. It allowed Lexa to drown herself into a world she knew and had always known, a world where she felt safe, a place where Costia was reading this book, rather than leaving it behind to the living world.

It wasn't just a book. Its pages didn't only carry written words. Its words didn't simply join themselves together to form a story.

It was a whole life hidden behind a simple hardcover.

She wouldn't let Anya's stupid plan make its way to the deepest parts of her mind. She didn't want to. She didn't want to be the kind of person whose face was stuck on a screen simply to wait for a message she had no idea when would arrive. She wouldn't become someone waiting, expecting, for a stranger to distract her from herself.

It wasn't who she was.

It wasn't who she wanted to be.

She certainly wouldn't become the kind of person rushing to her phone to see her messages. She wouldn't be a slave to her small device.

But then again, who did she want to be?

She finished her page after a painfully high amount of repetitive reading. She stared at her phone for a moment, like it contained an airborne virus ready to be released if she ever unlocked it.

Lexa couldn't take the anticipation anymore. She took the deepest breath she could and unlocked her phone, clicking on the traveling application icon.

She almost dropped her phone. She couldn't do it.

She could do it.

But did she want to? She couldn't answer.

She almost changed her mind, but forced herself to read the message she had just received in response to Anya's first contact.

 _ **I will exterminate all gorillas of this planet if you need me to! King Kong got nothing on me!**_

The confused look on her face must have broken records as she read the message again, double checking it was from the same Clarke Griffin Anya had messaged earlier.

She realized she hadn't read the message sent by Anya, and her fear suddenly doubled in intensity. If that was the answer, Lexa dreaded the first contact. She could only pray that this Clarke had not sent the police after her already.

 _Wanted: future friend. Preferably in the area of New York City at the moment. Must be able to kill giant gorillas and chase down idiots when confronted to them. Must not look like a murderer. Must have no history of stalking people. You look like the one!_

Lexa's calm face barely flinched. Barely.

She typed an apology, and hoped for the best.

Somewhere in New York, a phone buzzed, and a hand reached for the device.

* * *

 **Next chapter: Virtual Melody**

 **I try to make places' descriptions as accurate as I remember them but I apologize if I got some points wrong.**


	3. Virtual Melody

**Apologies for the wait!**

 **Thank you RedMerch for the kind words :)**

 **Thanks to Soncha_Kapa on twitter for proofreading.**

 **Location: Raven and Clarke, New York City**

 _Lexa's text are in italic_ and _**Clarke's texts are bold italic.**_ is different from AO3, I can't align text to the right so if the layout is confusing, blame the website.

* * *

 **Virtual melody**

People are surrounded by noise, sound of all sorts, murmurs, screams. They usually can't stay silent for too long. It goes against their nature. Silence means they're alone. Silence means they're alone, and that help is nowhere to be found if needed. From the quest to find life in the deepest crack of the oceans, to the distant exploration of quasars in the universe, to the research of past relics, people need the reassurance that they are not, were not, and will not be, alone.

Noise is omnipresent, from the most natural one, to the ones that are a hundred percent human creation. People pollute the atmosphere with their own voices, with every single step they take on the road, with every breath they exhale. They break the silence with every action they take, and shatter the calm with every decision they make.

They grow up surrounded by the symphony made by people and things around them, and now they barely notice it anymore.

They fight about useless dilemmas because of sounds: It doesn't make any difference whether or not a fallen tree makes noise if no one is there to hear it. By the presence of the atmosphere, the tree makes sound when it crashes to the ground. Had this simple tree fallen in space, there would have been no sound at all.

They learned to recognize all kinds of sounds, from the dangerous to the most inoffensive ones. They were taught to discriminate them well, for it could make the difference between life and death if they could not see the situation clearly. They seek the tones of their phones, signaling a new text message or a recent call. They chase every melody and every rhythm that makes sense for them.

They were biologically made to hear.

Their capacity to listen, however, is a completely different phenomenon.

* * *

They woke up in the same position they had spent the night, Raven drooling on Clarke's shoulder. Raven's laptop rested at their feet, as they both had fallen asleep after a long facetime session with the third musketeer.

Octavia had almost jumped in the first plane when she had realized her two best friends had already come back to their apartment despite it being the third day of their trip. She judged that, since New York was the city of excesses, Clarke and Raven did not live by its expectations. The duo of travelers had rolled their eyes. Their past was ruled by many nights out spent breaking the rules and Octavia acted like it was their destiny to repeat past mistakes.

Clarke mumbled a few words while eating their rudimentary breakfast, to which Raven answered with indecipherable growls. Their energy didn't take long to come back as they started planning their day, starting by a quick view of their neighborhood, followed by the exploration of Central Park in Manhattan.

They lived on a residential street in the middle of a popular district, and even in the early hours of the day, they could hear music being played outside by amateur musicians seeking their next audience. As soon as they stepped outside, they faced the signature Brooklyn's houses, one after another.

They visited small libraries and art galleries for Clarke to gossip about, and stopped by an antique shop so Raven could talk to the owner about ancient mechanical systems. They ate their weight in sugar after stumbling upon an artisanal bakery, and sipped a bit of sangria for lunch on a flowery terrace. They made fun of a few hipsters, and even took pictures to send to Octavia.

They didn't have such extravagant looks back home.

When they arrived at Central Park, in the middle of the afternoon, they decided to postpone their visit to the museum of Natural History for another day. The sun was too high in the sky for them to lock themselves inside, and they weren't science nerds like some guys they knew from their hometown.

They walked in the park by the Strawberries Fields path and immediately found themselves immersed in nature, despite the crowd. The violence of the color green and the fresh air punched them out of New York as they thought they knew it. If it wasn't for their hands carrying sandwiches from the nearest food trucks, they would have thought it was all a dream.

It felt like they didn't have to breathe anymore, the park was doing it for them. They didn't have to walk anymore, their feet were stepping ahead without their consent.

It seemed that their natural instincts couldn't bear not seeing every corner of this island of natural salvation miraculously floating in the middle of an ocean of outstanding machinery.

"Shouldn't we get a map or something?" Clarke asked.

"I think we can find some in the middle of the park?" Raven answered, unsure.

"Where's the middle of the park?"

"I don't think there's a middle. I think we're lost forever in this place. There's no exit. I'm pretty sure our phones can't catch any signal anymore. It was nice knowing you."

They wandered in different paths, up and down, sometimes climbing stairs, sometimes rolling off hills. They found hidden bridges and gushed like five years old kids when they saw the lake for the first time. They marveled in front of the flora diversity. They noticed tiny waves perturbing the stillness of the water, and Raven squealed when she saw turtles swimming their day away.

The sound of cars was gone, leaving behind only the chirping of birds and the muffled murmurs from fellow humans.

They reached the legendary Bethesda fountain and, only at its sight, understood why this park was the well-known romantic area of this urban territory. It took them a good ten minutes to take a picture that wasn't spoiled by a couple's appearance.

"Why aren't we dating?" Raven asked casually as they walked along a path where many artists were displaying their art.

"Because we tried that and it didn't work out."

"But we're in Central Park, we could at least pretend to be a couple just to enjoy the romantic power of this place. We could steal a boat and then pretend it was all for a marriage proposal, no one would get mad at us."

Clarke chuckled at Raven's words. She and Raven had always had different ideas and expectations when it came to relationships. Raven enjoyed wild, crazy, challenging, borderline dangerous relationships. It was the main reason she had fallen for Finn, a few years back, a nice looking boy with a mysterious reputation of solving problems with his fists, rather than with diplomacy.

Clarke, on the other side, while also requiring a certain challenge, preferred quiet evenings spent watching the stars rather than riding on meteorites.

"This has to be the only reason why one would steal a boat, of course," the blonde answered.

"You're breaking my heart.

"I'll fix it after, you know I always do," Clarke winked.

They ran from one kiosk to another, enjoying the feeling of pure freedom they absorbed by being in this place.

They reached the bronze sculpture of Alice in Wonderland, on which many children were jumping. They found a tiny attraction park, which architectural design reminded them of the ancient times, the Victorian Gardens. They lurked behind the walls of the zoo, trying to find animals. They even played hide and seek, their best childhood memories partly gone but never forgotten.

It seemed like Central Park brought out the best in them, their romantic side along with their youth essence.

It was like living in an emerald and occasionally encountering a sapphire neighbor whenever they saw water or a glimpse of the sky. It was a mirror of the primitive land they truly came from.

They travelled to a multitude of worlds and almost forgot about their real location.

When they finally emerged on Fifth Avenue, they felt like their hearts were ripped out of their chests at the sight of so much luxury. They didn't need their hearts in such a place, they only needed their wallet and unlimited funds.

They had travelled from a world of biological simplicity to one of extravagant, artificial needs.

"How poor are we?" Clarke whispered.

"You mean, how rich are they?" Raven rectified.

The artist nodded absently. She came from a wealthy family, and yet, she felt like she had nothing when facing this commercial street. It was another level of luxury, one she didn't know even existed. It was a place where jewelry costed more than her house, where electronic devices cost more than her yearly salary, and where fashion trends overshadowed any thought of equity between social classes.

It was a place full of wonders and excitement. It was the land of materialistic desires coming true at every street corner, the 'X' on the final treasure map. Every store was built to attract as many customers as possible, selling promises of happiness in the form of a ring or a perfume. It was a mix of smells of all kind, of music blasting from every door, of sugary sweets decorating windows.

It was magical and ethereal, exquisite tastes being shared amongst all lovers of money and luxury. It was the subtle atmosphere of this place, it made everything possible, every dream within one's reach, every fantasy not so far anymore.

It made them extremely excited, buzzing with the idea that all of this was within their reach, but at the same time, it made them terribly aware of where they stood.

It was the place of never having enough, while never needing anything. It was the universe of piling objects over and over again, collecting every possible shape and color and material and texture, owning every smallest item, as if they were the cure to the world's deepest enigmas. It was a race against empty bank accounts. It was a fight against a specific kind of loneliness, against a pointed style of gluttony.

It was as if poverty was a foreign concept on this planet.

It was the kingdom of capitalism.

And they were its slaves.

"I heard there was a Lindt store and a Godiva store next to each other," Raven declared. "It is now my only duty to find them."

After a stop at the well-known underground Apple store with its glass elevator, they walked down the avenue, breaking records of how many shops they could enter in a limited amount of time.

As Raven predicted, they found the two chocolate stores close to one another, with the addition of the unexpected view of Neuhaus chocolatier, and bought enough to fill their stomach until the end of their trip.

Or the end of the day.

They entered the privileged worlds of Louis Vuitton, Valentino, Saks and such, and almost lost their sight when they scanned the prices. They walked through every hallway of this synthetic paradise.

Fifth avenue was a jungle in which no laws governed but those marked by signs of cash. There were no predators, beside the few people in suits that reminded Clarke of Wall Street's famous reputation. There was no prey, beside objects waiting to be bought.

Trees were replaced by electric poles, flowers were replaced by colorful traffic lights, random narrow paths were traded for large boulevards crossing one another.

Clarke felt like whatever she owned, whatever she ended up with at the end of her life, would never be enough, would never even compare to the amount of goods there was. Suddenly, she felt like she owned too much and too little at the same time. She briefly wondered if all those things, all those vendors were aware of how much power they held.

She thought, if they combined everything, every single dust of gold from this glorious avenue sinking in money, would the total be enough to overcome all of the world's misery, all of the world's pursuit of higher feelings like love and true empathy?

Would she willingly trade a part of her soul to own everything she ever wanted?

She thought, probably not, because once the whole payments and transactions and checks and capital storms trapped people, the outcome was rarely a positive one.

"West 42d avenue," Clarke told Raven as they arrived at said street after a few hours, "is where we need to turn to reach Times Square."

"I will as soon as I eat at McDonalds. I've been corrupted by the sight of all of this."

Raven waved at the legendary street behind them.

"I need to spend less than five dollars on food or I'll transform into a greedy old person living alone inside their mansion at the top of a creepy hill," she went on.

"I need to spent more than five dollars on food to remind myself I can spend money on more important things than fancy necklaces," Clarke opposed.

"You have a point," Raven conceded. "But we're college students. All we can afford on a trip is junk food."

"And that is why we just spent over forty dollars on chocolate."

"Priorities," Raven confirmed. "And it was fifty. Happiness is expensive."

They ordered fries and burgers at the first sight of McDonalds. They quickly logged into their social media accounts. Universal internet access was the main reason they could never get rid of international chains like this one.

Clarke noticed she had a mail from Octavia and read it quickly, frowning at the mention of a stranger making her laptop beep at six in the morning. The blonde had given full access to Octavia to use her computer, and she already regretted it.

She dismissed the thought despite Octavia saying she had to call her back as soon as possible. She answered with a quick message, alerting her friend that she would not be back to the apartment until later that night, and that she could join her anytime if needed.

They made it to the border of Times Square as the sun was slowly moving farther in the horizon. They were about to start climbing the Mount Everest of technology when Clarke abruptly stopped.

"Times Square."

"Hold my hand, everything will be fine," Raven swallowed as she noticed the amount of people circulating around them.

"I can't find your hand in this crowd, is it still attached to your body?" Clarke joked.

They made their way through the avalanche of people.

It was as if the entire population of Earth had been deported to this exact place, as if they could get lost and never find each other ever again.

Even from a certain distance, Clarke could see the lights flashing, the advertising reaching extraordinary levels. She could feel the beams of light on her skin, on the sky, reflecting on every possible pixel made surface.

There was no day or night in Times Square. It was a perpetual display of artificial lights deciding whether or not the sun was allowed to exist. It was like being trapped in a parallel world in which all life revolved around screens and speakers and digital information.

There was no sense of time on Times Square. The only information to separate a moment from another was to notice when one advertising was gone to leave place for another. There were no seconds, or minutes, or hours, here, for it was a land that would never listen to the rules of such concepts.

There was no clear direction on Times Square. Left, right, up down, East or West, all of these words made no difference. Wherever people looked, they were confronted with the multiple sights of neons and stores, of endless streets and crazy detours.

There were no individuals either. Only groups of people forming a giant crowd, in which every person was indistinguishable from another. One minute they were being displayed on screen for a personalized ad, and the other, they had disappeared, swallowed by the strong currents of people walking in the same direction.

There were no notions of lost and found. Everyone simply wandered everywhere, bumping shoulders and screaming names in fear of getting lost. In fact, if one got lost, they could only walk, turn, run and even crawl, and they would find themselves back at the very first place they came from. Every road lead to the same intersection, and every intersection shone brighter from the previous one, like a lighthouse guiding lost travelers.

There was, however, a certain sense of logic, created by the illusion that they participated in making this place so full of energy, so alive, by their simple presence.

Boundaries were blurred, and limits were broken, as Clarke and Raven started making their way through this cyber web.

As if the entire world of coincidence was coordinated perfectly, Clarke felt her phone buzzing in her pocket, reminding herself that she, too, owned a part of that technological megapolis.

"Hey O!"

Raven turned her head curiously as Clarke started yelling on her phone.

"I can't hear you!"

Raven's attention slightly vacillated when she accidently bumped into one of those streets artists with barely any clothes on. She swallowed a mix of fascination and disgust at the sight. The mechanic almost hit herself in the face when she realized her curiosity pushed her to look at them.

"What girl?"

The small mechanic student decided to focus her eyes and ears on Clarke, whose face translated a deep confusion about the phone call she was receiving. The way Clarke was struggling to hear Octavia on her phone, while they were surrounded by telecommunications of all sorts, was ridiculous. Maybe the power of all those human voices put together truly resonated louder than all those radio waves.

"Hold on, O, we're deaf here."

Clarke grabbed Raven's hand and ran to the nearest place to shelter them from the ear piercing noise, which ironically turned out to be the Hard Rock café. They went directly downstairs, not bothering to stop to admire the relics of the past. They found themselves in a surprisingly quiet area, illuminated by dimmed lights, and decorated with a giant wall made of electric guitars. They ignored the few precious guitars that were exposed behind solid glass, and crashed into the nearest couch.

"Alright, talk. We're safe," Clarke said as Raven listened closely.

A few other visitors threw them strange looks, but both girls pretended they didn't exist. It wasn't the first time, and certainly would not be the last one, they disturbed the equilibrium of a place.

"I got a notification when I woke up last morning. Some woman messaged you at three in the morning," Octavia's voice repeated.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows I don't have my computer with me. Just ignore it."

"I wanted to! But the message was actually funny so I thought you'd want to know about it."

"You're going to be a bit more specific, O!" Raven interrupted as Clarke was about to answer. "Does Clarke have a secret admirer I don't know about? Or another best friend? Because I'm pretty sure that's considered cheating!"

The blonde pretended to yawn at Raven's vain attempt to steal her phone from her.

"It's from some application you downloaded? I thought you had it on your phone, that's why I didn't answer right away," Octavia continued.

"What app?" Both women asked.

"The one your mom forced you to get to prepare for your trip, Clarke. The one you never used. It connects you to people around the world so you know what's safe and not about the place you're going to visit? Arrange meetings with fellow travelers? Organize your trip? You only added it because your mother wouldn't let you go without it?"

"I deleted it. I never use it. What's the message?"

"It says: 'Wanted: future friend. Preferably in the area of New York City at the moment. Must be able to kill giant gorillas and chase down idiots when confronted with them. Must not look like a murderer. Must have no history of stalking people. You look like the one!' It's from a girl named Lexa. No last name."

Raven finally managed to take Clarke's phone out of the blonde's reach. She quickly moved to the opposite of the room, avoiding Clarke's offended look.

"Gorillas? It really says that?" Raven asked in disbelief. "Are you sure it's not one of your tricks to get us to stay on the phone because you're waiting for Lincoln and you're bored?"

"It isn't!" Octavia replied. "I was just as clueless as you. I thought maybe it was a code Clarke had with an old friend and that she would understand it."

"Well, I don't!" Clarke's shouted from Raven's side. "Ignore it."

There was a slight silence that lasted for an endless minute as Clarke felt the blood leave her face.

"You already answered?"

"The message was from last morning, what was I supposed to do? I thought you knew her. No one would send something like that unless they were already familiar with the other!"

"Or unless they're crazy." Raven muttered

"What did you say?" Clarke asked.

"That I was going to eliminate gorillas from the entire planet?"

"Octavia Blake, what the hell?!" Clarke all but yelled.

This time, they received irritated looks from the tiny crowd visiting. They couldn't care less.

"Just download the mobile app, and I'll be out of your way." Octavia quickly answered with a tone that displayed how much she wanted this call to end.

Clarke threw her hands in the air, motioning for Raven to end the conversation as fast as she could.

She didn't know why she was even surprised at this turn of events. Octavia was known for not being able to ignore texts messages, even the most useless ones. The Blake woman had a reputation of knowing the proper answer for any messages, even the most passive-aggressive ones such 'k', a common way to communicate hidden anger. It might take weeks, but Octavia always had the last word in a conversation, virtual or not.

"She says the girl's cute," Raven declared as she handed Clarke her phone.

"Because that makes everything fine?"

Clarke sighed loudly. She didn't want to start any kind of talk with strangers. She would eventually have to explain why she was on a trip, where she came from, what her whole history was, and that was strictly prohibited territory.

She didn't want to spend time wondering if her texting tone was the right one, or if she sounded too serious, or not enough, or anything at all. She didn't want to waste her time wondering some stranger would see her vocabulary choices as offensive or not. She couldn't give much insight about New York City either, because they'd be gone in just a few days.

Frankly, she had zero valid reason to communicate this way.

She wasn't against making new friends, or the online world in general, she just didn't understand why most people were charmed by the idea of virtual encounters, as if it was going to bring them a whole new approach on the world. She was from the generation that had grown without the Internet, before everything and everyone became linked through a nebula of zeroes and ones.

She wasn't feeling particularly fascinated by the idea of forming bonds with people she had never met. She would rather focus her attention on those she met through social events from her school or entourage.

She simply didn't believe friendships could last only on a few emails here and there.

"Let's just wait until she answers, if she answers," Raven suggested.

"If she does, I'm sending Octavia my phone bills. Wait, you already put the app on my phone?"

"You were too busy being in your mind to notice. And I do have a good memory."

Clarke looked at her phone and sighed, unimpressed. She shoved it in her bag, in the deepest part of her bag, and shook her head. There was no way that other person would answer after Octavia's stupid reply.

She felt a slight pinch of disappointment at the thought. She was unable to explain it.

They exited the Hard Rock café after a quick tour. They moved to the giant M&M and Hershey's stores before skipping to the fashion ones. They got lost in the endless corners of Broadway, and even had their pictures taken with various characters. In the Disney store, Clarke fell in love with a Simba plush toy and bought it, claiming the way The Lion King had killed Mufasa still was the most heartbreaking moment of Disney's classics.

They remained trapped in the high seas of Times Square until the early hours in the morning. Raven fell asleep as the yellow cab flew through the never ending streets of Manhattan to bring them home. She was never bothered by her brace, but it didn't mean a layer of pain wasn't sneaking under her eternal smile.

Clarke had never felt her phone's weight in her bag as much as she did that night, wandering in the middle of the capital of nightlife.

* * *

Music was her salvation.

Every melody, every harmony, every single note formed a few minutes of heaven for her ears. Every single, every song, every album and compilation she loved was part of her daily life.

She listened to music when she felt at the top of the world, and when she felt roots from hell take possession of her heart. She listened to all kinds of rhythm, sometimes stumbling on masterpieces, sometimes cursing the fact that she had ears in the first place.

She hummed lyrics when she waited for time to cross the land from present to past, when she contemplated about her future days, when she ruminated over the forgotten days.

She locked the outside world out of her mind through music when she needed a moment to herself. She had never been good at sharing her thoughts, at allowing anyone the right to know her deepest emotions, so she found refuge in the tones instead. Any reason was good for her to stray from her occupations, to spend more time in her small universe.

She shared her latest discoveries with Raven, just the way she used to with Wells. It wasn't the same, but it was close enough, similar enough, for her not to think too hard about it. She was no fool. It would never be the same as lying on the grass in the middle of the night, making themselves become human burritos while spending hours trading melodies. But it was something.

Any song could hold a secret in its heart, and Clarke knew how to recognize the one with the most potential. She had trouble translating the neuronal signals of her brain into proper words, and it drove her mad at some times. She could plan several years ahead what she would be working on, but she could never admit whether she felt in a particular way or another.

But surely enough, she was confident she could come home, dig into the pile of files she had saved on her phone and computer, and find just the right sentence to describe her ideas.

Music made sense when nothing else did. It put words on the unknown and hunted loneliness away. It explained everything in a much better way than she could think of, and filled her heart with happiness when there was none to be found in this concrete reality. It traded a simple day's boring notes for life-changing melodies. It shared tales and stories behind simple words.

Music was accessible to all. It didn't discriminate. It wasn't a constant controversial subject in headlines. It didn't have any limit. No amount of time could make a song completely disappear, and no amount of modification, of autotuning or crazy manipulations, could hide the basic layers. Even those who could barely support the loudness of instruments could find the rightful song for them to enjoy.

Music was born from some people, and was transformed by others. It carried memories of all sorts within its rhythm. It became a time machine for those nostalgic about specific events of their lives, and it transformed into a torture instrument when used in a malicious way.

Every word was made of tragedies and victories. Every letter was built from ink of sweat and blood.

Clarke knew it, because even the songs she couldn't live without had mutated into the objects of persecution when she listened to them in the darkness of her room back home. Those songs sounded like memories, and they brought her both agony and peacefulness.

They gave her a ride through the highest highs and the lowest lows.

She often started the day with a song on mind, and only noticed when she came back home that she had a different one playing on repeat.

Music filled the silence that was too heavy of past regrets and unsaid words.

Clarke flinched as she heard the intrusive buzzing of her cellphone, breaking the fluidity of the song she was currently emerged in.

It was a whole different kind of melody. It was aggressive, and loud, and it carried nothing more than a notification of a new message of some kind. It wasn't made from a beautiful sculpted instrument, nor any object preciously handled from a generation of musicians to another. It was exclusively made from the digital cosmos.

Clarke could have lived without it, but she always forgot to replace it with a song of her own. She feared the moment she did that, she would associate the song with the person messaging her. And what if that person ended up being a total psychopath? That would ruin the song.

She threw a glance to her phone and frowned. She unlocked her device and her eyes went wide when she noticed the freshly new application on her main screen had a tiny "1" at its top, indicating she had a new message.

" _I apologize for the previous message. My roommate used my phone. I'm sorry for the disturbance I may have caused. We didn't think you would answer."_

She frowned, unable to send an answer. She couldn't believe Octavia's message had received an answer.

She felt strangely pushed to reply.

She had no idea how to react. It was like she was frozen in time and space, indefinitely wondering what to do.

She looked around her, as if the proper way to deal with this situation was going to appear on the living room's walls.

She didn't want to further make a fool herself.

She felt her heart skip a beat and frowned even harder. She wasn't one to be blinded by unrealistic expectations, but her body reacted before she did.

Her curiosity outweighed all of her doubts, and she found herself typing a similar small apology to the stranger.

She told herself that it was, after all, the least she could do.

She was at war with the world, but she didn't want to let a stranger suffer for her own battles.

She was caught in an endless battle, but it was hers, and only hers.

A strange urge kept telling her it wasn't that simple. Deep inside, she was curious.

Curious to know where this could lead, who this person was, and why she had made the effort to answer. Curious to test a new kind of contact.

Curious, because she knew limits did not exist in a world behind a screen, and she enjoyed pretending to be free.

Curious because it was a chance for her to interact with someone who didn't know her.

It was a chance for her to introduce herself, and not be seen as the girl who'd lost her best friend in a car accident. It was a chance for her to speak to someone whose behavior was not regulated by the knowledge of Clarke's past.

It felt like possibilities were appearing before Clarke.

She convinced herself she wasn't expecting any answer after that. It was only a polite reply, to an equally polite apology. It would have been rude of her to ignore it.

The speed with which she unlocked her phone when she heard the same buzzing sound a few seconds later proved her wrong.

She immediately set a new ringtone.

She picked her favorite one.

* * *

Lexa waited for Anya to leave the apartment before she rushed to her bag and retrieved her phone. It was set on silent mode, but her senses were tingling and she just knew she had a new message.

It was like she had been biologically predisposed to know when something important was going on, and right now, she knew, felt, heard the invisible way her phone's alarm went off.

She slid it open and read the answer she had just received. She nodded to herself at the apology, and typed a quick answer. There was no need for her to start a conversation. Her tone remained strictly professional, and she didn't want to change it. Maybe this Clarke woman was simply doing what she thought was right. Lexa could not know.

Lexa's phone buzzed again, breaking the climate of tension the woman had unknowingly stepped in. She read the answer and this time, she frowned at the playful tone.

She was new to this technological world. She rarely used her phone, especially to send text messages, and she hadn't quite grasped all the subtlety of this language yet.

It was different from what she was used to.

It was different, and therefore, she found herself being unable to look away.

Was Clarke being friendly?

And if the answer was positive, why? The concept of befriending a complete stranger through the online universe was completely foreign to her. It seemed impossible to her. It seemed out of this world, because how could someone ever be close to a person they never see? How could a complicity develop?

She forced herself to keep a straight face, but the corner of her mouth still twitched up a little. She had gotten another answer.

She replied something short again, unsure of how to act, how to appear friendly, or not, to someone who couldn't see her. Was she supposed to use specific words? Was she supposed to add those strange smiley figures that Anya always used? Was she supposed to pretend she was fine or perfect, or should she already disclose the fact that she had an infinite number of issues?

It was the main problem with this kind of contact. It was ruled by ambiguity. She could decide what to disclose or not, and she was entirely in control of what the other person knew of her. She couldn't blame it on the lack of attention or a suggestive tone or a misplaced word. Every interpretation laid on the exact words she wrote.

And what she wrote, she could not take back.

She couldn't erase her messages.

Once it was sent, it was forever.

It was like tattooing new memories to someone's soul. Her phone was the needle, and she controlled the words.

She could become someone else. Someone who wasn't broken, shattered, exhausted by the past. She could become the complete opposite of who she was. She could choose to be a warrior, a pickpocket, a great commander, or be labelled as Lexa Woods, lost soul.

She waited.

The waiting part was torturous. There was something about being able to chat with someone, at any time of the day, so close yet so far, that attracted her. If she wanted a break, she could have it. She'd simply stop answering. If she wanted to talk, she wouldn't have to ask for availability and a cup of coffee, she would only send a small message. This stranger knew nothing about her, about her tragedies, about her pain.

This person didn't know about the way Lexa was a puzzle missing its most important pieces, the way Lexa was a road without a destination, the way she was a puppet controlled by the tantalizing pull of death.

This person didn't know about the way Lexa could stay awake all night to fix another person's broken pieces, the way Lexa had fought enemies with a hand of steel, the way she was the master of her own destiny.

At this exact moment, Lexa was everything, and nothing at the same time.

She received an answer.

And another.

And another.

And soon enough, Lexa realized this Clarke was not simply passing by.

Only then did Lexa allow her smile to remain in her face.

* * *

The last day of their week in New York had arrived, and they had the whole evening planned down to the last second. First, they would grab a bite to their now familiar brunch restaurant in Williamsburg, then they would head to Chelsea market to find a few items to send back home, proving to their relatives that they were alive.

They would walk the High Line, something the artistic side of Clarke needed to see at any cost. It was a linear park built elevated from the ground. It was built on elevated old railways. It had been converted to a popular pathway on which they could admire many street arts from above. After a quick stop home to finish their provision of pasta, they would revel in the fantasy world of Coney Island, and see the fireworks show that occurred every Friday night.

Contrary to the popular belief, a week was enough for them to see everything they wished to visit. New York saw many dreams being born, but it was also extremely expensive for them.

They were leaving the city for the North the next morning, and nothing was more suited than a beach celebration.

Chelsea market was surprisingly packed with independent artists of all kind, and Clarke considered moving there. From old metro maps soiled by graffiti designs to kaleidoscopic classy paintings of the skyline, to handmade simplistic jewelry, the two women didn't know where to look anymore. It didn't help to be surrounded by the most tempting smells of the city.

They ordered Italian food for lunch and made their way to the nearest park, at one of the first entrances of the High Line. Clarke ran for her life at the sight of the last table under the safety of a tree's shadow. The weather wasn't too hot today, but the burning sun beamed directly at their heads.

There was nothing graceful with the way they ate, consuming their lunch in a way that illustrated one of the seven deadly sins. As soon as they swallowed the last gulp of their almost melted gelato, they were up and climbing the stairs that lead them to the passage above.

It's wasn't extremely high, but the lack of usual landmarks made it seem like they were on a privileged highway. They were part of a continuously moving crowd, but the lack of a roof coupled with the absence of building walls and noisy cars just inches from their bodies, gave them the impression that they had plenty of space.

"It's nice and all, but where's the art?" Raven asked as they turned the second corner of the path.

"We've been walking for less than a minute."

"Five minutes! I've seen three monks already."

"Don't worry, you didn't bring yourself up here just for the religious insight," Clarke nudged her friend.

They found a water fountain at the third turn and Raven laughed out loud. Water came from a statue's mouth, and people drank mostly to take pictures rather than being thirsty.

"My future husband!" Raven pretended to make out with the statue as Clarke snapped a picture of the immortalized duo. "Isn't he handsome? Young forever?"

Soon enough, they were rewarded with the first mural of the day, a giant painting of a couple from the past years, reuniting by a kiss. Circled by shades of blue, red, purple, pink, green and orange, the man was preciously holding the woman, as if he came from war to his reason to stay alive.

They noticed a giant painting of a bronze old fashioned train on the wall right under this masterpiece.

At another turn, they saw a futuristic black and white painting of flying cars. It was partially hidden behind trees and Clarke snapped a picture she thought represented the way nature fought against this possibility.

The streets went on forever as they took a break to admire the distant Empire State Building. Modern condos mixed themselves with red bricks from the oldest edifices.

They faced many smaller paintings and sculptures, even walking under a giant metallic web made from recycled wires.

"My future wife!" Raven screamed when she noticed another statue similar to the first one, only this time it was a woman.

Clarke rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly at Raven's false enthusiasm.

"Clarke, don't tell me you're a repressed homophobe just because I said I'm married to two people and none of them is you," Raven teased.

"Shut up!" Clarke chuckled, knowing fully well that her bisexuality was a secret to no one.

The blonde was about to find a better answer to come back at Raven when her phone emitted a familiar beep. It was a light note, different from the one she used with her friends and family. It sounded like a crystal being hit by a diamond, and Raven's attention was immediately redirected to this strange new sound.

"What's that?" she asked as Clarke quickly typed something.

"Nothing."

"You look an awful lot concentrated on nothing," Raven said, arching her eyebrow.

"It's nothing," Clarke insisted when her friend tried to catch a glimpse.

Raven suspiciously let it go, only to snatch Clarke's phone when the blonde turned her head away for a nanosecond. The world in which she would ignore a new alert on Clarke's phone was not this one, and she needed to know what this secrecy what all about.

She knew Clarke's password by heart, as both girls, plus Octavia, never hid each other anything. Raven was not about to let secrets start.

"Who's…" Raven let the rest of her sentence disappear as she scrolled down the few messages Clarke had received the previous night.

Her eyes scanned the conversation faster than any machine invented by humankind as she avoided Clarke's reach. Both women started turning in circle in the middle of the highway, but none of them cared enough about the rest of the crowd to stop. They bumped into strangers and collided with tourists and monks, but never stopped until Raven finally tossed back Clarke's phone to its owner.

 _Wanted: future friend. Preferably in the area of New York City at the moment. Must be able to kill giant gorillas and chase down idiots when confronted with them. Must not look like a murderer. Must have no history of stalking people. You look like the one!_

 _ **I will exterminate all gorillas of this planet if you need me to! King Kong got nothing on me!**_

"I have to admit that's a nice answer," Raven said.

"Not you too," Clarke moaned in despair.

 _I apologize for the previous message. My roommate used my phone. I'm sorry for the disturbance I may have caused. We didn't think you would answer._

 _ **No problem! I'm sorry for my friend too. Normal socialization isn't her best ability.**_

 _It is quite alright._

 _ **Does that mean you befriend giant gorillas?**_

 _Absolutely not._

 _ **I'm glad we have that in common.**_

 _It's a long story._

 _ **I know you don't know me, but care to share?**_

 _Perhaps later._

 _ **No worries!**_

The first part of the conversation ended around midnight, which had been the time they both had fallen asleep last night. Raven had assumed Clarke was in a deep conversation with her mother, which she realized now, was far from the actual conversation.

 _Are you in New York?_

 _ **Leaving tomorrow. You?**_

 _Arriving tomorrow. What should I see?_

 _ **I'm on the High Line now. It's great, you should see it!**_

"I'm on the High Line now. It's great, you should see it?" Raven asked in disbelief. "Really, Clarke? That's the best you got?"

"First, it really is great! Second, don't steal my phone!" The blonde protested.

Raven was having trouble figuring out what was going on in her best friend's mind. She briefly wished her brace came from the future and was adapted to mind reading.

"Are you kidding me? You're the one keeping secret the fact that you've been chatting with this girl since last night. That's an entire day, C. An entire day! Coming from someone who almost flew back to our place to slap Octavia for answering the first time, that's something important."

"I didn't think she would answer!"

"I don't care, she answered." Raven replied. "You have to tell me when things like that happen, C. We're on this trip together. You let her know our location, and we're both in danger if she turns out to be bad news."

"You know I won't do it."

"I don't know, Clarke. I thought you wouldn't answer, but here you are, chatting with someone we don't even know, disclosing our deepest secrets and plotting to destroy humanity." Raven shook her head in false disappointment as Clarke slapped her head lightly.

They bickered a few more minutes about the subject until Raven decided to let it go. She only had to notice how many times she would hear Clarke's phone alarm from now on.

She tried, really tried, to not react when she heard the familiar beep not even twenty seconds later. Clarke threw her a quick glance and answered, making it short.

Clarke sat on a bench and opened her bag. She took out a small piece of paper, about half of the average size. She had drawn a splendid sketch of the view from their place in Brooklyn, tracing diverse patterns of lines to form the skyline. She didn't add colors. She never did on sketches. She wanted to practice the shadows and pressure of her pencils.

It illustrated a small portion of the neighborhood's roofs, along with the few clouds that travelled in the sky that day. It was quite simple, but it held an atmosphere of melancholia through the way it was all put together, the way the roof never seemed high enough to reach the sky, the way the sky never seemed full enough to shelter Earth's treasures from the violence of space.

Raven noticed the way the lines seemed to be purposely erased at specific distances and intersections. She decrypted the hidden message in the next minutes. It wasn't anything surprising. New York was their first destination, and the purpose of it all was to get past the last few years of grieving.

To read "Clarke and Wells were here" between the lines was a way for Clarke to bring her best friend to the city he had so wanted to explore before his death.

Clarke had mastered the art of hiding little pieces of herself in the cities she visited, and this time was no exception. Wherever she went, she had decided before the departure, she would leave a small sketch somewhere.

She didn't have much, but she knew Wells would have appreciated the thought.

Nothing fit better in her mind than the High Line. It wasn't too high, and it wasn't stained by the city's numerous flaws. It wasn't surrounded by suffocating pollution, and it wasn't constantly attacked by urban loudness.

She made sure no one looked and purposely hid it in a tiny space between the bench and the brick wall behind them. It was a ritual she had performed countless times back home, after his death. Wherever she had made incredible memories with Wells, she had left a note. It was her way of saying goodbye. It was her way of making sure her friend was not gone.

She couldn't bear the thought of him not being remembered.

He wasn't the kind of person who deserved to be forgotten.

Even if she had forgotten so many things about the unique person he had been, there was no way she would ever let go of the small amount of memories that remained.

She couldn't bear the thought of doing nothing to keep him alive.

* * *

 _ **I cannot believe you cried because a gorilla scared you at the zoo when you were ten! That's adorable! You were a little old, let's admit it, but still, that's adorable!**_

Clarke and Raven spent the whole evening riding multicolor attractions on the beach of Coney Island. They had a cliché long walk on the beach when all the lights were behind them and the ocean seemed like a dark death trap.

 _Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke. Why don't you tell me if Coney Island is worth my time instead?_

They bought cotton candy and hot dogs from Nathan's, and ate enough sugar to fill their old days.

 _ **The beach is a bit cold, but the food definitely is! Unless you're one of those people who cannot bear the thought of eating badly.**_

They had their pictures taken with a man dressed in Hulk, and another dressed as Captain America.

 _I am not. But do not mock those who choose a healthy lifestyle._

They rode the Ferris wheel, baptized Wonder Wheel, and looked at the beach from above, marveling at the sight of the endless path of sand.

 _ **I don't! Oh, by the way, you should totally try some rides!**_

They defied their full stomachs on a ride on the Cyclone wooden roller coaster and managed to keep all their food inside, to Raven's surprise.

 _I honestly do not see the point in these. I think it's a waste of time. Why one wants to spend time being shaken around is beyond my understanding._

They challenged themselves to the Thunderbolt, the most daring ride of the place, with its 360 degrees' loops and harsh turns, and laughed until they couldn't breathe anymore.

 _ **Because it's fun. It's like a being in a tiny rocket. It's fun.**_

They watched the sun disappear at the horizon, and counted down until the first fireworks started to explode in the sky.

 _I have different ideas of fun. Things that don't require me to give away the contents of my stomach._

They laid in the sand, not giving any second thought about those tiny rocks getting stuck on their clothes. They watched the dark ceiling transforming to a spectacle of colors and shapes of all kind as little rockets exploded everywhere.

 _ **You're fascinating. I didn't know people could have a definition of fun that didn't include roller coasters. You'll have to tell me more about it.**_

Fireworks reflected on the ocean, and they both realized they finally understood the reason why this specific kind of event was so often associated with romantic scenes in the movies.

 _I'll show you someday._

The sound of the waves couldn't swallow the multiple voices of enthusiasm from families and tourists, and they gladly participated in the various screams of joy.

 _ **The fireworks aren't bad either.**_

They wandered on the boardwalk when most of the crowd was gone and breathed the salted air, as an ultimate goodbye to this place.

 _They must be loud._

They watched the last remaining of the smoke disappear up and up away, as the only lights left were those of the distant city.

 _ **Is there anything worth your time here, let me think again. I don't think so. But it's amazing. It's a festive place, and there's no huge buildings blocking your view.**_

They took the last metro back home, despite the bad reputation of the place at night, and Raven pretended to be iron woman with her brace, to replace Clarke's worries by laughs.

 _Perhaps. May I tell you something?_

By the time their bags were packed and ready to be transported elsewhere the next morning, the night was almost over.

 _ **This sentence always gives me a heart attack, but go on.**_

By the time they fell asleep, exhausted and smelling like Hawaiian surfers, Raven had counted twenty-four familiar sound alerts coming from Clarke's phone, and she could recognize the melody in a heartbeat.

 _If you say it's worth it, I will give it a try._

* * *

Lexa woke up before Anya. She always did. She always took a few minutes to listen to nothing but the air.

It had always been like this, since her younger years, and she blamed it on her father who always told her the most precious sounds were to be found in silence, a rare phenomenon these days.

She stared out of the window for a minute, the distant motors of cars knocking on the glass rectangles. She appreciated those moments, when she didn't have to hear anything, to listen for anyone calling her name or offering her countless advice she had never asked for.

For a long time, she had studied law, and she had lived in a world governed by police alarms, people screaming orders, clients yelling their requests and multiple technical sounds made by all kinds of pens and papers. She had learned to decode what all of them meant, which ones she could ignore, and which ones meant she needed to call for support. She, too, had participated in this orchestra of complicated words being thrown in the air to form a complex symphony.

For an even longer time, she had been surrounded by electronical sounds of all sorts, beeping, clicking, attracting nurses and doctors at all hours of the day and night. She had developed friendship with the steady rhythm of Costia's heart being monitored closely by a machine she never fully trusted. She had spent nights being woken up by urgent code names being yelled by running employees.

She had learned to recognize which alerts were important, and which ones meant she could lose the love of her life within seconds.

Those sounds had continued to haunt her, long after Costia passed away, and Lexa's presence was not needed anymore.

When she found herself protected by her bubble of quiet, she could let go of all those notions.

She could forget for a moment that she lived in a place where everything and everyone ran faster and faster and always faster, where the slow-paced people were eaten alive by the others.

She could see that this place, this world in which not speaking to strangers and not sharing deep feelings with one another was the norm, was probably not as loud as it appeared to be. This world was made of useless sounds, and Lexa sought only the important ones.

There was something about the soundless place she buried herself in.

It allowed to see past her hardened walls. It gave her insight into the person she was behind this incessant need to appear flawless and strong in all situations. It allowed her to reflect on the different meanings the same situation could have. It gave her the chance to see herself the way she really was, not the way everyone else described to her.

She didn't understand why the world was so scared of silence.

She didn't understand what made humans so frightened of silence, that they had to spread lies and stupidities around, rather than keep their mouths shut.

She didn't understand why people felt the need to fill every single second with words, with talks of nonsense, with empty subjects and obvious hypocrisies.

She didn't understand why people tried so hard, too hard, to put words on things that refused to be described.

She didn't understand why people thought they needed to vocally express their thoughts at all cost, when vocabulary was a prison for free ideas.

Speaking seemed to be the most common way to waste time.

Actions, gestures, the way people look at each other, the way they listened to sounds, those were better than voices constantly interrupting each other.

She breathed in and out.

She loved the silence. It discriminated the people she was comfortable with from the ones she was not. If she could sit in silence with someone for hours and not feel submerged in anxious feelings of all sorts, this person was worth staying around.

She adored the silence. It allowed her to imagine she was elsewhere, to visit other secret lands that lived only in her mind.

She listened to the silence, more than she did to human voices. It carried more wisdom than they did, but not many were aware of this.

She simply loved the silence, and most importantly, she respected it.

She heard a familiar ringtone, alerting her of a new message.

 _ **A wild Griffin appears!**_

She sighed.

She smiled.

She answered.

She waited impatiently for the next ringtone.

She suspected she was starting to enjoy her phone's alarm more than the quiet serenity.

* * *

 **Next chapter: Lost and Found**

 **Note: The story might start a little slow but I've decided to write around 10 chapters or so, so I think it will go down pretty quickly.**


	4. Lost and Found

**Sorry for the wait! I got busy and my laptop is still not back home. But this chapter is a bit longer.**

 **Thank Soncha_Kapa on twitter for proofreading.**

 **TW: slight mentions of self-harm.**

 **Locations: Clarke and Raven: Toronto**

 **Lexa: NYC**

 **Texting:** Italic: _Lexa to Clarke_

 ** _Bold Italic: Clarke to Lexa_**

* * *

 **Lost and found**

White walls. Red floors. A mix of both when too much blood was spilled.

Lexa frowned at the sight of the doctor dispatching orders to his interns. She hadn't realized she was already back at the hospital.

She hated it.

Everything here reminded her of every night spent drowning in her own tears.

She could hear the faint sounds of machines keeping people alive. She could smell the disinfectant smell that was so characteristic of this extremely sterile world. She could taste the way the air seemed full of life, but equally perfumed with death. She could feel people rushing around her like there was no tomorrow, no second chances, and she thought, maybe that was indeed the case.

She looked around her.

She was in a room she recognized. She had spent months in that room, decorating it to make it as cheerful as possible, erasing the trace of previous patients. She had spent nights soothing her lover's nightmares away. She had spent days chasing the darkness away. She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime earning smiles and embraces she didn't think she deserved.

She had spent hours looking through the windows when doctors tried to bring Costia back to life, way too many times.

She had made a crucial decision in this room.

There was a strange glow to the atmosphere, as if it wasn't clear, as if nothing would ever be. Lexa grinned at the way someone's lips curled up.

Costia smiled at her, eyes tired and every pore of her body sweating from the intense fever she was fighting. She was smiling the way someone who knew what would happen next did. She was smiling with the certitude of knowing the unknowable. She knew, and she wished she didn't. She wished she didn't, so she could hide the truth from her eyes, from Lexa.

But Lexa knew her too well.

It wasn't resignation. It wasn't acceptance.

Costia couldn't accept it. Couldn't accept that her life would end this way. Couldn't accept that she would not see Lexa anymore. Couldn't accept that she was leaving Lexa behind, when it felt like Lexa was so far away ahead. She couldn't accept it, because a simple week ago, she had been told that the surgery went great, that she would make it out of here.

Then the infection came out of nowhere.

And now she had no choice but to cough her energy away.

She coughed her life away. She coughed Lexa's life away too.

Lexa felt the breath catch in her lungs. She positioned her body to run by Costia's side, but she couldn't move. No matter how hard she wanted to move, she was stuck. Maybe she was moving forward, but she never could reach Costia. She couldn't catch up with the distant way Costia seemed to be. She was paralyzed by an invisible force that even her greatest will couldn't break.

She would have given everything just to be able to touch Costia one more time.

One last time.

Costia died, eyes throwing bullets, imploring Lexa to tell her why she wasn't holding her.

Costia died alone.

Lexa stood alone.

Lexa looked down in agony, and noticed blood on the floor. She was unable to tell if it came from Costia's body or her own slit wrists.

She held the knife tainted with the presence of the distinct red liquid in front of her eyes.

She aimed for her throat.

* * *

Lexa woke up.

She couldn't breathe.

She wasn't in her room. She was in Costia's lifeless hospital room.

She glanced down at the white thin scar on her right wrist.

Memories flooded her soul.

She fought the violent imminent crisis long enough to reach for her phone.

* * *

Clarke rushed to the hospital with Raven and Octavia. She yelled at the nurses to tell her where Wells and Finn were. Her senses were overwhelmed by morbid thoughts and she felt claustrophobic in this environment. It wasn't her safe workplace anymore, it was her personal hell.

Octavia reached for Clarke's hand, who reached for Raven's, and together, they ran everywhere, looking through every door, scanning the hallways and searching for their friends. There was a maze between them and their loved ones, and it was unfair, Clarke thought, to not be on time for the meeting because of it.

They climbed stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and poked their head through every possible window.

When they finally found them, the rush of adrenaline tripled.

Finn was conscious, but his eyes showed no sign of receptivity. He was in shock. His body kept trembling, and Clarke could see the way he would be marked with ugly scars until his death. His soul was absent. He kept staring at the ceiling without answering any questions.

He would never be the same.

Wells was unconscious. His head was badly injured. He was already being connected to a ventilator, as his capacity to breathe was almost inexistent. Someone scanned his chest and abdomen while bandages were hopelessly trying to stop the blood pouring out of his side. It seemed as if the red liquid was making space to death.

A neurosurgeon was called and performed a few tests.

Wells didn't respond to any stimuli.

Clarke felt the blood in her body stop circulating. Everything, every little fight, every little argument she had had with Wells in past rushed through her mind, as if she needed to remind herself of wasted time.

She pleaded whoever was trying to keep him alive to succeed. She begged them to succeed. She prayed every god she had neglected her entire life for some kind of miracle.

She wished she knew how to save his life.

Clarke almost fell to the floor when they announced Wells was brain dead.

She knew it was the same as announcing time of death.

It took both her friends to steady her.

Clarke watched as Wells didn't come back to life. She wasn't sure she was alive either.

She didn't feel alive.

* * *

Clarke woke up.

She breathed heavily, in and out, as if air wasn't enough to keep her alive.

She inhaled the air Wells couldn't breathe.

She heard her phone's ringtone beeping in the dark, the safety net that had dragged her out of this nightmare.

Lexa's name shone like the North Star, guiding her to a land protected from insanity.

* * *

Both women lied awake in their respective beds.

Both breathed in relief when they managed to reach the other.

Both pretended everything was fine as they typed away anything to make their night easier.

Both felt safe.

Lexa pretended the scars were only in her head and with Clarke's presence, it truly felt like they never existed at all.

They stayed awake until the earlier hours of the morning, Lexa stroking her wrists absently while an invisible Clarke formulated songs of hope.

* * *

 _I don't mind staying awake for another moment._

 ** _Great! So, another question. Day or night?_**

 _Do I have to choose?_

 ** _Yes._**

 _Both._

 ** _Slow or fast?_**

 _Neither. My own pace._

 ** _Order or disorder?_**

 _One would not exist without the other._

 ** _Earth or sky?_**

 _Earth._

 ** _Why?_**

 _It is where I feel I belong._

 ** _I think I would be sky._**

 _May I ask for the reasons?_

 ** _I would no longer have the atmosphere forcing me down._**

 _This is what the top of the mountains are for._

 ** _Mountains are a great compromise._**

* * *

It can take either a lifetime for two people to get along, or a single hello.

There is something mysterious, and almost surreal about the way people connect with each other. From ancient letters delivered by riders to the immediate text message, people have redefined their ways of communication to make them faster and more efficient.

They keep denying the existence of physical boundaries that separate themselves from each other. They completely erase them with satellite communication. They hug, shake hands, have more meaningless sex than ever. And yet, while taking down all physical obstacles, they forever promote the protection of their private life.

There's no time restriction for relationships to bloom or die. No one is truly able to predict how long it should take before moving on or not. There's no unacceptable delay before starting to be attracted to someone. It can take a second or many lifetimes.

Most people grow any of their relationships through time and activities. Logic implies that the more they meet with someone, the more they interact the more likely they are to become friends. It takes work, and respect, and a bidirectional communication system for it to leads to more.

It's amazing, the way two people can hate each other at first sight, as if they were two enemies since the Middle Ages, reuniting again. It feels like their soul remembers things hidden from the surface. And so, from their very first interaction to their last one, the two of them don't get along, and nothing in the world can ever change their mind.

They try and try and stubbornly force themselves to act positively, but there is nothing that can be done, they just don't connect with the other person. They could spend a thousand hours communicating, locked in a room with no other company, and yet, this deep encrusted feeling of repulsion would not disappear.

It is not an important issue if the other person is someone they will never see ever again. For the most unfortunate ones, it appears within their families, within their close circle of friends.

They feel radically disgusted by their relatives, but they are forced to act as if they got along perfectly.

Sometimes, the radically opposite scenario happens.

Sometimes, it just clicks.

By some kind of undiscovered laws of the universe, one person just knows, by a single first sentence, by a single first look at a situation, that something extraordinary is about to happen. They feel it in the core of their heart. It is an intuition stronger than anything else, they just _know_. It's like they have been put on earth to interact with that other person.

They are aware, from the first sentence, of an imminent collision between the two of them.

It's irrational, and it makes no sense at all for whoever isn't them. It's impossible to believe for whoever is listening to them talk about this spark. It's not logic, it isn't based on anything.

They just know, they feel in their soul that they have to speak again to one another. They find themselves seeking that other person, not only because they want to, but because it's a need. They are wired to do so because they cannot fight against this urge.

It's as inevitable as breathing the air that keeps them alive.

Whether they meet at a party, on a business trip, through common friends, through the virtual world, or simply by bumping into each other in the street, they simply feel an "off" switch being turned on inside their brain.

It isn't something that asks for time to develop. It isn't a friendship transformed to something more. It isn't growing or evolving toward something.

It can't evolve. It is already bloomed.

It starts a whole already and it springs into a confirmation of something the person just knew from the very beginning was meant to happen.

It's a certitude stronger than the laws of the greatest scientists of any era.

It's like coming home but having no idea that they had left it in the first place.

They just know that they must have this other person in their life. They are inexplicably attracted to this stranger, and it's this attraction that dictates their following actions.

They find themselves in that other person.

They feel complete.

It was exactly how Clarke felt every time she saw Lexa's name light up on her screen.

* * *

"One small iced capp', one bagel BLT and two chocolate donut holes, please."

The Tim Hortons employee stared at Raven, confused, before understanding the young woman's full order. Raven paid and went to wait for her order to be ready beside Clarke. The blonde woman had an amused look on her face, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.

"We've been here almost a week. How can you order an iced cappuccino the way Canadians do, but you can't replace 'donut hole' by timbits?"

"We'll be gone in two days, who cares." Raven shrugged.

"I'm sure they do."

"Where, on any of my identity papers, does it say that I'm Canadian?"

Clarke rolled her eyes as their breakfast arrived. They sat at a table and watched as the world woke up around them. The place was already full of workers ready to get their caffeine boost for the day. It was only eight in the morning, but they had woken up earlier to cross the city up to the North of downtown Toronto.

"You could try," Clarke said.

"Like I said," Raven said as she swallowed her recent bite, "I'm not officially Canadian. I don't have to pretend to be polite or anything. I can be my good old self."

"I heard they are genuinely polite. Apparently Toronto is more polite than some other cities in Canada too. Remember the guy who apologized for bumping into the counter earlier today? I thought I was tired, but then I saw two other people doing the same. And see how they keep holding the door open for the next person? I mean, we were a good five meters behind and we had to jog to relieve the poor guy of his 'door holding' duty."

"How are they even allowed on Earth?" Raven muttered as Clarke grinned.

After five days, they had managed to visit most of the places that interested them, from the popular Yonge-Dundas square to the Eaton Center, passing by the Distillery Historic District and the exploration of the diverse tea houses. Clarke had found hidden treasures when they had walked on Queen W. Street, and Raven had filled her stomach at the St-Lawrence Market.

They had found Chinatown to be much more tolerable to visit this time, as Spadina Avenue was nowhere as stinky as its equivalent in New York City. The only places left to cross off their list were the hikes from Don River Trail and the majestic Rouge Park, the latest being scheduled for their last day in town.

They had failed to find their way to the Don Valley Park after choosing the wrong bus two times in a row, and had found themselves at Lawrence W. avenue and Yonge St intersection.

Raven had claimed they could still join the river by following a series of parks down to their final destination.

"Stop looking at your phone," Raven said as she sipped more of her refreshing drink.

Clarke frowned and threw one last glance at the inside of her bag.

"I wasn't looking at my phone. I was looking to see if we had enough water, just in case."

"You're a terrible liar, Griffin. All you've done since we've arrived here is wait for new messages."

The blonde sighed the accusation away. She had spent a fair amount of time looking at her screen in the past few days, but she had been careful not to make it too obvious.

"It's just been quiet. I haven't heard from her in two days."

Raven put her hands in front of her mouth in a dramatic gesture and gasped loudly.

Clarke's hand found Raven's shoulder as she playfully pushed her away. The blonde didn't need anyone to tell her that she was being ridiculous.

The stranger, Lexa, was surprisingly really easy to get along with. They hadn't needed any small talk after their first conversation. Words seemed to flow and not once did they misunderstand each other like some other people did when confronted to the absence of vocal words. They had exchanged a few messages whenever they could, sometimes until the early hours of the morning.

They never ran out of things to say.

The last two days of silence brought Clarke a level of annoyance that had surprised the hell out of her. It wasn't due to the lack of social interactions, as Raven would always be her travel best friend, but still, it felt like something was missing from her days. It was a tiny something, but it was there.

Lexa's messages were missing.

Clarke couldn't accept the fact that she missed someone she had known for just a week.

"Finish your timbits," Clarke said. "We're leaving after. We'll have to walk the whole day."

"What's your last message?" Raven asked as she grabbed Clarke's phone.

She unlocked it and Clarke cursed herself for forgetting to change her password. It would have seemed more suspicious if she did. Raven wiggled her eyebrows like she just won the first prize and started reading the last few messages.

 _New York is huge. I don't know what to look for anymore._

 ** _We're downtown Toronto. You're good?_**

"Why don't you give her our exact latitude and longitude coordinates while you're at it?" Raven asked with a teasing voice.

 _I'm great. Canada? Anya calls it the Unicorn of the world._

"Anya?"

"Her best friend," Clarke clarified.

Raven's eyes betrayed her surprise at knowing Clarke had already been introduced to some of Lexa's friends, but didn't say anything. She trusted Clarke not to give her own name without asking her first.

 ** _You give me high expectations._**

 _I hope you enjoy it. I will visit it next._

 ** _Really?_**

 ** _Are you secretly stalking us?_**

 _Who knows? Maybe? I have to go._

 ** _Alright : ) Talk to you later!_**

"Clarke," Raven asked, "you're making jokes with her. About stalking us. You typed a smiley. Where does this land on the safety spectrum?"

The blonde absently finished her own drink and threw the cup away as they walked out. The fresh morning air gave them motivation to move faster as they reached the small Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens entrance, which would lead them to many more trails until the end.

The cloudless sky and the bright sun were already getting the day ready for the perfect hiking weather. It wasn't a problem for Raven. She had an excellent endurance, and her brace did not slow her down anymore. It had been fully adapted to her walk and posture.

"I make jokes with everyone." Clarke dismissed her friend's thoughts with a shake of her hand.

They stepped down a few stairs and followed the clear path ahead of them. After a few minutes, they walked past a parking lot, and were introduced to a welcome sign to Blythwood Ravine Park, which also had its roads traced already. The easiest part had started.

The forest-like park was small and narrow, and in close proximity to the houses, but once emerging out of it, they felt as lost as they could be. It had been a particularly warm spring, and despite it being only the middle of May, the trees were already covered with various green shapes. Both women couldn't see past the thick wall of trees that surrounded them, and the only thing that could cross the barriers were the rays of the sun.

They walked past a few people doing their morning run and continued confidently forward. The path was clear, the signs were everywhere, and they could always ask the people around if they needed help to find their way out. The park traced an emerald ribbon in the middle of the North residential district.

They absently snapped a few pictures of a small stream running next to them. They tried to ignore the distant, vibrant sound of urban life. The faraway hum of the city disappeared when they crossed to the Sherwood Park, a larger area bordering a cemetery. They chose to remain on the rocky rudimentary track rather than move to the cemented one. They had no interest in walking between the relics of the dead.

"You're not really missing someone you barely met, are you? You guys had five real conversations in three days, two days ago. And that includes the first one. She asked about New York, you answered. No big deal." Raven broke the eerie silence.

Clarke thanked the world Raven didn't know about the countless messages exchanged in-between, the intense lack of sleep she currently suffered from, and the longing for more interactions that tortured her like a parasite.

"Rae. We're supposed to be looking at nature, not talking about my phone contacts."

Raven sighed and stopped walking.

"Fine. But listen to me just for a minute. Then we can praise Mother Nature all you want."

"One minute," Clarke ordered.

Raven gathered her thoughts. She knew Clarke meant it when she said one minute, and she didn't want to waste her time. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't blind. In fact, she could clearly see the tiny shadow of disappointment whenever Clarke looked into her bag, how the blonde seemed to wait for something that never came.

She noticed the way Clarke's words sometimes lacked in depth, and she knew it was a sign that her friend's mind was somewhere else.

"Remember when I said we were going to be in danger if that Lexa girl turned out to be bad news?"

Clarke nodded, unsure of where the conversation was heading.

"I was wrong. We're not risking anything, of course. I trust you."

Clarke agreed once more, counting the seconds away from the moment they could keep going.

"We're not in danger. I'm not. You and I are not. But you, alone, could be."

"Raven-"

"I still have twenty seconds, I'm counting too!" Raven said, words spilling out of her mouth quickly. "You could be in danger. I'm not talking kidnapping, torture, being dragged in a random cave in the middle of nowhere and death kind of danger. I'm saying you could care. And you already do. So be careful, Clarke. You're not in that place where you have to message her everyday or something. She's just a stranger."

Clarke heard those words loud and clear, and nodded once more.

She understood what Raven's point was. She even agreed with it. But still, a small part of her felt uneasy, nauseous at the thought of not having news from Lexa for so long. She inexplicably needed to remain in contact, in one way or another, and she was well aware of the implications that could follow.

A part of her refused to qualify Lexa as 'just a stranger' because she was certain the woman was so much more than that.

It wasn't entirely her fault. She just thought Lexa was great. It wasn't a problem itself. It would probably never be.

They would help each other, answer each other's questions related to their journey, and eventually, like all contacts born from the technological wonderland, they would drift apart. There was no other possible way for it to conclude in her mind, and it didn't make her sad at all.

She expected it.

Granted, she cringed at the thought, but she still expected it.

She wouldn't even call it an "ending" when it happened. She would take it as nothing more than simply a lack of frequent contacts.

Clarke nodded again, with more conviction, and smiled at Raven. She took her phone and turned it off, fully determined to concentrate on the environment surrounding them rather than the low probability of receiving a new message.

She was in Toronto and she didn't want to have her mind anywhere else. It was a chance for her to discover a new city, and she had no intention of wasting it.

"There," she announced, "it's turned off. Let's go."

Raven threw her an unsure look but didn't betray her thoughts. She believed Clarke.

Whenever they walked across a bathroom sign, Clarke excused herself, and hid to check her phone.

She always came back with a fake smile after realizing there was no new message, and Raven always pretended not to notice.

Eventually, Clarke stopped smiling.

Raven wondered when her friend had given a part of herself to a virtual stranger.

* * *

She was sitting on a bench offering a mind-blowing view to the streets from a balcony situated at the end of the High Line. She sent a few words and pictures to the numerical sphere and focused on the sight before her, a few meters below. The avenue vibrated with the passages of cars, synchronized in a perfect dance by their choreographer: the street lights.

 _"_ _The view from the High Line."_ She sent to Anya.

Lexa was in search for a new home, and she was sure she wouldn't be living in New York anytime soon. It was too loud, too messy in its core, too fast. It was the opposite of who she was. This city would eat her alive if she let it.

It was a place she was glad to visit, but it could become her personal demise if she stayed any longer than she had planned to.

She didn't see this place the way the entire world seemed to.

She didn't share their awe when faced with such modernity. She didn't praise the new gods of the twenty first century. She didn't bow in front of the tallest skyscrapers, and didn't pray for alcohol to transform her nights into the greatest debaucheries. She wasn't seeking every new fashion trend, and her interest in luxury was very limited. She didn't want to be blinded by flashy lights and dollars signs, and the mixture of all the innovative inventions put together.

In fact, the few reasons that brought her to New York City were Central Park, the many bookstores she had heard of, the museums, and, thanks to her new contact, the High Line.

She had considered exchanging her bus ticket to her next destination for an earlier one, but Anya had convinced her to stay for the last days, saying it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Her friend had insisted, and so, Lexa stayed.

It wasn't the only reason. Of course it couldn't be that simple, no matter how much Lexa wished it was.

Lexa stayed, and endured the place she didn't fit in because her next destination was Toronto.

She had nothing against Canada. She couldn't wait to see if all those stereotypes were true, but something stopped her from moving forwards. She had first blamed it on Anya, before realizing it was something bigger than the simple words from her friend. It was something that disturbed her, something she couldn't name, until she had found an explanation in the form of a hidden piece of paper she had discovered on the High Line.

In one of their conversations, Clarke had mentioned she was an artist. Clarke had mentioned the High Line and its marvelous street arts, its wonders and its small places she hinted to be perfect to hide messages.

Lexa had put two and two together and, the moment she stepped on the High Line, started looking for something, anything that could have been left by the mysterious chatter.

It had been a difficult task, and even though she had probably looked like a mad person to everyone else, searching in every corner of the road, she hadn't been able to find anything until she sat on a random place in the middle of the High Line. A subtle piece of paper, imperceptible for someone who wasn't paying attention, was sticking out of a small crack behind her seat.

At first she had thought it was a mistake.

How would she even know it was from Clarke? How was she even sure Clarke had left something behind? Maybe she had just read too much into a simple text message. After all, Clarke and Lexa weren't exactly the closest people in the universe. They barely knew each other.

A few conversations didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. It didn't even mean they could consider themselves friends. In another era, maybe, but in this one, it didn't mean anything at all.

That thought made Lexa's heart hurt a little too much.

What did it mean, being friend with someone? Was it an implicit transition from being complete strangers to sharing a deeper bond? Was it explicit? Did Lexa have to ask Clarke about it or simply guess and hope to be right?

It was simpler when they were young. A simple "will you be my friend?" was enough to become best friend with everyone. It changed in high school, when expectations, social norms and judgements ruled the world. But in a virtual place with no apparent limits, where were the boundaries?

The moment Lexa had seen the drawing, her eyes had focused on the lines, the points, the spaces between them, and the precise tracing of the pencils.

 **Clarke and Wells were here.**

She had stopped breathing for a moment. The coincidence couldn't be ignored. The name Clarke was flashing as if it had been traced in fluorescent colors rather than black and white.

Lexa opened her pictures folder once again, and stared at the picture of the drawing she had snapped. She noticed, through the way the lines incorporated themselves perfectly to the elements of the drawing, that this message was not meant to be discovered. She wondered if it had been intentional at all, if Clarke had thought about it for a long time before leaving it there.

Lexa was different.

Morse code was something she knew intimately.

The brief thought of flashlights illuminating the night was enough to torture her soul. She remembered sleepless nights spent sending luminous messages across the empty street that separated her from her other half. She remembered exactly how long to hold her light open to create a dot or a dash. It had been the way she had communicated secretly for a long time, when her parents thought she was sleeping.

She couldn't recall how many batteries she had wasted this way, how many times Costia's flashlight also guided her from the crepuscule to the black sky.

Costia had taught her the Morse code. In some kind of way, it was Costia who made it possible for Lexa to understand Clarke's messages.

She let the feeling of sadness pass, like it always did.

Her phone buzzed and it displayed Anya's answer.

 _"_ _See! I told you staying in NYC was a good idea!"_

Lexa sighed. She had wanted to leave, but the idea of being in the same city as Clarke made her uncomfortable, even if the blonde had mentioned she wouldn't stay long in Toronto.

She wasn't sure why it made her uneasy, but the possibility, even as small as it was, of accidently walking across someone who looked a bit too much like the blonde's profile picture made her nervous.

What would she do? Would they speak if they met? Would they even acknowledge each other? Would they pass by and ignore each other? Would they momentarily forget about each other? Would Lexa even recognize Clarke, or vice versa? And why in the world was she even thinking about such impossibilities?

She rolled her eyes at herself.

She didn't know the other woman.

Meeting her sounded like something out of science fiction movie.

She had no reason to feel nervous at all, so why did she? If she could speak to herself from an external source, she would. She would convince herself that there was nothing going on, that despite not having exchanged a single note with the blonde for the past two days, she wasn't still waiting for something.

There was nothing to wait for anyway.

She glanced back at the picture one last time. Who was Wells? Clarke hadn't mentioned anything about her plans, except for the places she was in, and Lexa didn't want to ask.

It wasn't her place to ask. It wasn't her place to even wonder about things like that.

Clarke could do anything she wanted. Clarke was as free as she possibly could, and Lexa was a complete stranger in her life. She probably felt curious because it had been a while since she'd had any new contact. But then again, it hadn't been a while at all. She was constantly meeting new people through Anya's circles.

Lexa felt painfully aware that she didn't know anything about Clarke. She didn't know all the little things she wanted to know. She didn't know Clarke the way she wanted, needed to.

Lexa sighed. It wasn't her place to even find the message, to understand it, to decode its meaning. It was Clarke's legacy, and Lexa was simply an unexpected witness.

But then again, it wasn't like her either to wake up in the middle of the night and ask for Clarke when the shadows threatened to bury her.

What bothered her the most wasn't the lack of new messages from the blonde.

What bothered her was the fact that she craved a new message.

It was the feeling of waiting for it, even though she wasn't supposed to. It was the weird feeling of attraction to a mobile application.

She stared at her lock screen. She had moved the application's icon to the main page, and her whole world seemed to be moving the wrong way by not seeing a little "1" on its corner. She hadn't used it to talk to anyone beside Clarke. No one else seemed nearly as interesting.

She swiped it open. She closed it. She opened it again. She turned her phone off.

She wouldn't depend on someone.

She left the High Line with a strange feeling of mourning the loss of something unknown, something she didn't even have.

* * *

"Are we lost?" Raven asked, exhausted.

They had been walking amongst trees for the past three hours. They had crossed the large Bayview avenue when the park separated in two. They had almost slipped on their descent back to the park, as the safe road transformed to an abrupt rocky slope. They both were sure it wasn't the right path to take, but had gone through it anyway, their adventurous selves laughing and cracking jokes at every opportunity.

They had regretted it a few minutes later when they had realized that the clear road they had been following from the beginning was nowhere to be seen. Their walk had taken a wicked turn when they had found a small, very narrow trace of wheels, and decided to follow it.

"I don't think so. Technically we're moving in the right direction." Clarke mumbled as she glanced at the little moving dot on her screen.

She had no idea where they were. She knew the city was never far, but with high trees and ravines around her, she couldn't hope to join it back. What seemed like a thin thread of trees from above, according to her phone's map, became as dense as the amazon forest from the inside.

"Are you sure? We haven't seen a living soul since we went back in the park."

"If we keep walking this way, we're supposed to find Sunnybrook Park. And we'll see from there."

Raven avoided the branches of a fallen tree. They were unusually high from the small current of water they could see from their position. When she stared ahead, she could see the small traces of bikes going, rotating around trees and making a strange path for them to walk on. When she looked to the right, she could see the way trees' roots poked out of the cliffs of rocks that surrounded them.

It was like being trapped in a tiny canyon, walking outside the safety designed zone.

She steadied her posture by using various branches along the way, and made sure Clarke was following her. There was no way she was going through this alone. She had no idea where the road was, but she didn't want to fall and find it from a rescuing team.

The more they walked, the more complicated their path became.

It leaded to more challenging angles than the one that allowed them to stand straight. They often had to rely on each other, to climb higher by using bigger rocks as points of support. It wasn't a calm walk in the woods anymore, it was approaching a professional hike in the mountain, and the prospect of such idea didn't appeal to either of them.

They didn't have much time to admire their surroundings, as they were too busy being careful of their next step. The smell of nature gave them enough energy to go on, and the songs of the many animals living in those woods sounded like an anthem for their efforts.

"Do you think we should call someone? Maybe Octavia can help us," Raven said.

"I don't know. I've been on google most of the time, there's nothing more we can do."

Clarke's answer was loud and clear, but the blonde was engaged in a bloody fight with her instinct, which begged her to contact Lexa.

"Maybe they'll find us in a couple years and we'll be those badass people who managed to survive a month in the wild. Killing panthers and fighting with bows and arrows, throwing handmade knives and stuffs."

"There are no panthers in Toronto," Clarke said, winning the battle and pushing all thoughts of her long distance contact away.

Clarke felt strangely calm in this situation. They were, indeed, lost, but it gave her time to think about her situation a little. Being lost wasn't a problem. They would eventually stumble across the right road, or meet people and ask for help. It wasn't such a terrible situation.

It was nothing compared to the state of her mind.

Too many hours had been spent without Lexa's presence.

It drove her mad.

Being physically lost didn't worry her as much as she thought she would. She felt that her body wandering in the middle of nowhere was in perfect harmony with her soul, looking restlessly for an exit road from the fog it was trapped in.

Before Lexa, Clarke felt lost because of Wells' death.

After Lexa, Clarke felt just as lost, but for different reasons.

She wondered if it even was possible for someone to never get lost, to be completely found in the world.

She thought that everyone was lost in their own way. Everyone searched for something that made sense to them. Everyone looked for that one moment during which they would feel like they weren't lost anymore. And as soon as they found it, they pointed out another problem. They embarked on a new quest. It was an endless maze of illusionary exits and hard realities. It was a lifestyle.

The one everyone lived in: forever pretending they knew what they did, pretending they knew who they were, but always praying to be found.

Always searching, always finding and never satisfied. Perpetually lost.

Clarke thought there were too many ways to be lost, and not enough ones to find themselves.

Clarke wondered if she was meant to be lost, if she would ever find a way to guide herself.

Being paralyzed mentally was a nightmare, and she wished she knew how to make it stop as easily as she could leave this forest.

But even in the middle of nowhere, there was one person in her mind.

In a state of near emergency, her mind was all about Lexa, as if the other woman was the compass to safety.

Clarke felt like she could tell anything to her. She could be herself, fully. She didn't have to hold anything back. She didn't have to pretend, even though their conversations had been limited. She didn't feel so terrified of the future anymore. She wasn't a lost soul anymore. In a way, it felt good. In another, it felt wrong.

She wished she knew why she felt this way for a stranger rather than for Raven or Octavia.

Why Lexa? It complicated things. Clarke hated complications.

Raven came to a sudden stop, and Clarke almost bumped into her back.

"What?" Clarke asked.

"Shh! I hear voices!"

They both stopped moving and just like Raven said, they heard voices coming from all directions. Their eyes moved to everywhere at the same time, and just like magic, they saw people walking and talking in the distance.

"Shit." Raven cursed.

"Hide!" Clarke jumped behind a trunk. "I don't want them to see us. We're probably being illegal right now."

"They won't see us, we're like, ten meters above them."

"Exactly. I'm not about to give them a heart attack."

They were way out of the normal road. The wooden road built by humans to facilitate the walk was situated a few meters down from where they were currently hiding. They would have to find a way to move down the somewhat rough cliff they were walking on, to the secure path.

"How?!" Raven exclaimed once the other people were out of sight. "How did we even get stuck up here? We didn't climb anything!"

"I don't know, but come on, the road is easier that way. We can't stay up here."

"How?!" Raven repeated.

"I don't know! When we crossed that boulevard earlier, I don't think the park was separated in two. I think we just went out of the first one and entered the second one by something that wasn't exactly an entrance."

Clarke mentally asked for whoever was listening to give her enough strength. It wasn't a hard descend, but it was too close to being vertical for her taste. It would make a perfect story to tell her mother, if she got out of there alive.

A flash lighted up her mind as she realized, the first person she would tell beside Octavia was most likely to be Lexa.

Not her mother, not her father, but Lexa.

They climbed down rocks and trees, but their altitude was still greater than where they were supposed to be. Their clothes were soiled by dirt, and despite their best tries, they couldn't just jump down without risking injuries. They crawled through the tortuous bushes, and kept their body as close as possible to the ground. Raven almost slipped, but Clarke's hand managed to stop the dangerous fall.

They were halfway through a performance that reminded Raven of a circus' acrobat's skills, when they heard voices, this time coming from above.

"Are you shitting me?" Raven's angry voice resonated.

They looked up once they secured their position. Three mountain bikers were defying the elevated ground and racing between their natural obstacles.

"At least we know why we saw wheel traces." Clarke shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm about to steal their bikes."

"Well now you'd be a criminal."

They scratched themselves many times, and Raven's mouth let out the most colorful insults in the world, but they finally managed to step over the wooden barrier and reach the intact path.

Raven wasn't one to complain about the pain, but her brace's pressure on her leg had increased more than she expected. It was made to walk for a long time, but climbing was a different matter.

"You're alright?" Clarke asked with a concerned voice.

"I'm fine. Let's go. I'm getting hungry."

They walked for another hour before arriving to Sunnybrook Park's entrance, where they found more people in five minutes than they had seen in the last three hours. Parents with their children, couples enjoying a date together, and even many dogs running freely in all directions. They never felt as relieved as they did now, and they were painfully reminded by their body that their walk in the wild had lasted over five hours.

They had no idea where they were, but getting lost in the city was one problem they knew the answer for. They had street names. They could easily find their way back. Even now, in the middle of a district they didn't know, the first thing they could do was ask for directions and head toward the familiar sight of downtown Toronto.

"Bus? We're near the Don River, but then we'll have to walk for many hours to go back from where we came. I suggest we just head back by bus." Clarke asked after glancing at her maps application, knowing Raven would never admit herself she needed a break unless the other person offered.

"Good idea."

They reached Eglinton East Avenue a few minutes later, and Raven nearly kissed the road on which huge cars passed by at high speed.

On the bus on their way to Victoria Park metro station, Clarke's eyes were bright and shining from their adventure, and Raven pretended not to notice the way the blonde's hands were constantly fiddling with her phone.

Any other day, Raven knew they would have already called Octavia and told her about it. They would have laughed at how ridiculous their situation was, at how irresponsible it had been for them to not ask for help. The two travelers would've promised a thousand times to not put themselves in such situation again. They would've listened to Octavia promising them a painful death if she ever heard of something like that again.

Then they would have listened to Octavia complaining about not being there to be lost with them.

Now, Clarke wasn't even considering calling Octavia.

Raven wasn't stupid. She could see the subtle way Clarke's fingers lingered over the blue icon of the travelling application, the way her friend fought the urge to swipe it open and type away their story to a certain stranger, the way she tried to distract herself by looking elsewhere, and the way her eyes always came back to her screen.

Raven frowned. She had an excellent sixth sense, and she hated the message she was getting from it.

"You don't need anyone's permission to send a message." She said as Clarke's eyes moved to her for the first time since they had boarded the bus.

"I know. I just, it would be strange, right? For me to just say we got lost in a park?"

"Since when do you care what you send to people?"

Raven's intuition was sending bright red signals to its owner. If Clarke already seemed to care about what she said to this stranger, then that was not a good sign.

Clarke never cared about little things like that. She was a proud woman, and everything she did, she did for herself before anyone else. She didn't need anyone to tell her what to do, and she certainly didn't listen when someone told her to change something about herself.

She didn't care about what people thought about her, and if she ever did, it was never to the point of questioning or changing what she did unless she truly wanted to.

The blonde asked a silent question to her best friend.

"I don't care what you do, C." Raven said. "As long as you know what you're doing."

Clarke nodded silently. That was the problem. She had no idea what she was doing.

She had no idea where this urge to tell Lexa about what had happened came from. She had no clue why Lexa was the first person on her mind, and not Octavia or even her parents. She didn't know why she wanted to tell Lexa, or what she expected in return.

She had no idea when Lexa became such an important person in her life.

She just knew that she wanted to do it. She wanted to share it with Lexa. She wanted to tell her everything, even the most irrelevant thing about herself. It was as natural as walking and eating and breathing. It was a pure reflex, something she had no control over.

It was like the feeling of being completely surrounded by her fears and doubts disappeared when she contacted Lexa. Like Lexa was the burning sun after a storm, the cool breeze in a hot day of summer, the warmth of a fire on the most glacial day.

It felt like her day would not be real, unless she told Lexa about it.

No.

Clarke was sure of it, it wasn't just a feeling.

The day would not be real unless Lexa knew about it too.

She even wondered if any of her previous days had ever been real.

What were the odds to find someone who fit so well with her? What were the odds to find someone whose presence completed hers so well?

She needed to make this day, and every other day, exist. She opened the application, and started typing eagerly under Raven's eagle eyes.

Raven watched as Clarke's missing part came back to its owner.

She observed as Clarke seemed to smile more in anticipation of the upcoming conversation.

She blinked in disbelief at the way Clarke lost herself into the digital world while she typed everything in details.

She wondered if Clarke knew about the way her blue eyes were no longer tainted by the permanent sadness that inhabited them since Wells' death.

She wondered if Clarke knew about the way her smile when she texted Lexa was different than any other Raven had ever seen.

Raven wondered if Clarke knew how alive she seemed to be at this very moment.

Because that was what Clarke was.

Alive.

* * *

Lexa had enough.

No one told her what to do. No one forced her to do things she didn't want to do. No one was responsible for making her stay in New York if she didn't want to, especially not a stranger she had had only a few conversations with in her entire twenty-two years of existence.

She wasn't about to let that change.

She packed her bags and made her way to the bus station. She changed her ticket for an earlier one. She was scheduled to leave at seven this evening, and would be arriving in Toronto around six in the morning. She had all night to sleep her irrational worries away. It was only one day earlier from her schedule, but she was sure finding a place to stay would not make a big challenge for herself.

She had a quick meal at the station and waited for her travelling bus to arrive. She only had an hour to kill and she answered a few mails, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that her excitement from leaving New York brought her.

There was no chance, absolutely no chance, for her to accidently bump into Clarke. And even if there was a tiny chance, it shouldn't bother. It didn't. It didn't bother her at all. She wasn't thinking about it at all. She wasn't even considering the option. Clarke had mentioned her schedule once to Lexa, and she was supposed to leave Toronto tomorrow night.

All Lexa had to do was avoid any well-known place that Clarke would probably want to see before leaving the place.

It was easy, and she certainly wasn't going to let herself be bothered by the thought of being so close to a person she certainly didn't think about.

Right?

She nearly dropped her phone on the floor when the familiar notification showed up on her screen, alerting her she had a new message from Clarke Griffin.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and Lexa wondered when Clarke had become a shot of adrenaline to her.

She cleared her throat and looked around like she was holding the world's more precious secret in her hands.

She nonchalantly opened the application, hiding her imminent smile with the most stoic look she could come up with.

 ** _You won't believe the day I just had._**

 ** _Raven and I got lost today. In a park, in the middle of Toronto. It's ridiculous. Sorry to bother_** ** _you, but I thought you should know, in case I disappear again._**

 ** _But seriously, look, I'll send you the map._**

Lexa couldn't stop the grin that appeared on her face despite her best efforts. She tried, really tried, to let a few minutes pass before answering so she wouldn't seem desperate, like children did with their first crush, but couldn't.

It was the first message she'd had for days, and it felt like coming back to land after drifting at sea for months. It felt like breathing fresh air after being trapped in the smog for a decade.

It made her day exist.

It made her existence matter.

It gave her the feeling that someone cared.

 _Your disappearance would be very unfortunate, as you are supposed to help me not get lost in my future destinations._

Lexa waited, practically holding her phone a few centimeters away from her face, for an answer. She shook her head in disbelief at her own behavior. She was being ridiculous. The only time she'd ever done that was with Costia, and Clarke certainly wasn't Costia.

 ** _Fear not! Your savior isn't going anywhere!_**

 ** _How was your day?_**

Lexa sighed in relief at the realization that Clarke wanted to start a conversation with her, and wasn't simply passing by like a comet that only crossed Earth's path every twenty something years.

She was about to tell her everything when she stopped. She didn't know if she wanted to tell Clarke about her High Line's discovery. She wasn't sure if they were even close enough to be sharing something like secret notes.

She wasn't sure yet, if Clarke had hinted her toward that hidden drawing, or if she had crossed a line. She didn't want to scare Clarke away by prying too hard on her life. It already was a huge coincidence for them to have such a similar itinerary. She wasn't about to give Clarke another reason to think she was a professional stalker.

 _My day was great. I went to the High Line you mentioned. I'm glad you did. It has an amazing view._

She hesitated once again to tell Clarke about her sudden change of plans. She wanted Clarke to know, but at the same time, it bothered her. It did sound like she was trying to follow Clarke's steps. Before she could answer, her phone's alert went off again, and Lexa found herself forgetting her worries again.

 ** _It is, isn't it? My friend told me I shouldn't have mentioned the High Line in case you didn't enjoy art and long walks under the burning sun, but that's it, I won!_**

Lexa's eyes shone with amusement, until a thin veil of shadow obscured them. Her friend. Clarke's friend. Was it that mysterious Wells? Wells was a man's name, wasn't it? She frowned. Why was she even thinking about it? It didn't matter. Clarke was travelling with someone, and Lexa was travelling by herself. That wasn't a point of concern.

 _You can tell your friend I loved it. The sun was a bonus._

 _Was your day enjoyable?_

 ** _Beside the park, amazing. Toronto is great. It's not as suffocating as New York can be. We're just having our last official meal here. We're leaving Toronto tomorrow night. My friend said we can't visit Canada and not have poutine._**

 _Was it that?_

* * *

"Is she serious?" Raven asked, her mouth full of fries as she glanced at Clarke's phone. "Only the greatest Canadian thing ever. And from what I've heard, one of the greatest hangover food to have after midnight."

Raven swallowed her food and stole Clarke's phone to type an answer.

 ** _Only the greatest Canadian thing ever. We can't be friends anymore._**

"Really?" Clarke deadpanned. "Now you're scaring her away."

They were sitting at a table at Poutineville restaurant. The main dishes consisted of fries covered by gravy and cheese curds. It was meant to be as unhealthy as possible, and yet, still consisted a better meal than some fast food varieties they could find the United States. There were as many variations as the number of stars in the sky. This specific restaurant had many, including a 'make your own' option, with different choices of sauce, cheese, vegetable and meat. The restaurant even had a meal named "the Heart Attack", which consisted in a 15lb poutine to eat in group.

"I admit it isn't as gross as it seems."

"Clarke, my friend, please. Just admit you've been blessed. I can't believe we're not going to Quebec."

"Why?"

"It's where it's from. This restaurant comes from the French Canadians. Why do you think I picked this one rather than anything else?"

"I'm still surprised that you know all that, but you can't remember to add 'timbit' in your vocabulary."

"Priorities, Clarke. Just like you'd rather message that Lexa girl instead of O, I'd rather remember the important names."

The blonde rolled her eyes and read Lexa's answer.

 _What about maple syrup?_

 ** _Too cliché._**

 _And this poutine thing isn't?_

 ** _Clearly not since you haven't heard of it._**

 _Tell me where to find it._

 ** _The place we are at is good. I'll link you to the restaurant's page._**

"Seriously?" Raven rolled her eyes. "Why not say 'Hello, we are here, come kill us?' It would be easier."

Clarke looked at her friend in confusion.

She didn't understand why Raven didn't feel the same deep connection she felt with the stranger. Why wasn't Raven feeling like Lexa had always belonged with them? Why wasn't Raven feeling like Lexa was the fourth missing friend of their cavalry?

Why was she the only one seeing this proximity between them?

It was the complete opposite of fear. It was the feeling, the certitude, that she could trust Lexa. She kept being slapped in the face by this realization, over and over again.

She could feel that Lexa was safe to talk to. It wasn't just a feeling. It was more. It was like the entire universe whispered to her that there was nothing to worry about.

Clarke immediately started sketching fries doodles on her napkin. If Lexa was going to come here, the blonde wanted her to find her drawing. It was like sending a message across time. She traced the contours of the fries and left a message. She didn't need to think about leaving one. It came naturally, automatically, as if she had no choice but to leave one. She didn't really care, they were never decoded by people.

Clarke finished her drawing in a few minutes. It wasn't anything detailed, but it made her smile, and she was sure Lexa would smile too, if she ever came here. It wasn't like her last drawing. This one was happier. It didn't carry the same nostalgia the last one did.

In fact, she felt in a different way than she did when she was still in the United States.

Wells used to travel all kind of places to follow his father, Jaha, a famous congressman. All of America seemed tainted by his presence. Up here, in another land with a real physical boundary between them and her country, it felt like the weight had lessened up.

Clarke thought that the farther she would be from her hometown, the best she would feel.

Or maybe it was all because of Lexa's ghostly presence. It changed her mood. It was a twist in her life, a welcomed one. It made her feel something different than the crushing loss.

It made her feel happy.

She just felt the urge to smile, whenever she received a new message. It simply appeared on her face, without warning, whenever her phone buzzed.

She couldn't control it. She felt impossibly happier.

 ** _We had the greatest table. Left corner, near the window. We could see the whole place._**

She hoped Lexa would understand the hint. It was subtle, but she knew Lexa enough to not underestimate her. This time, she hid the napkin between the table and the wall, making sure to check that none of it showed up.

She caught Raven looking curiously at her but pretended it was nothing. She was having fun. She felt good. She had been anxious that her impromptus message about getting lost would get no answer, but it had been the complete opposite.

It was as if those two days of silent had never existed.

It almost felt like Lexa was in front of them, talking and laughing like old friends reacquainting.

She found herself wishing it was the case. If Lexa was there with them…

Clarke forced herself to stop those thoughts. It wasn't a healthy thing to do, and she was well aware of the dangerous direction it could go.

It was a path she never wanted to explore.

She didn't know it yet, but travelling down this road was not a choice she could make.

It was not a choice anyone could make.

She was already well advanced in this path of 'what if' to turn back. She already wondered about the possibilities, even if she stubbornly refused to admit it.

The possibilities were amazing.

No.

Lexa made the possibilities amazing.

 _I will make sure to choose this seat. If it's busy, I will even make the effort of coming back another time, just to try that table. You cannot say I don't believe you._

Clarke grinned at Lexa's enthusiasm.

 ** _I'll expect proof._**

 _I will find something._

"She's a keeper," Raven commented, still reading over Clarke's shoulder as they finished their meal.

* * *

It was one in the morning, and Lexa was wide awake. She could feel her eyelids struggling against gravity, but she insisted on keeping her eyes wide open. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to.

She was afraid of the nightmare.

She was afraid of her memories.

She had nowhere to hide.

Where could she hide if the one she was afraid of was herself?

The other passengers were all peacefully visiting the world of dreams, but Lexa's phone illuminated the bus like the full moon illuminated the pitch black night. She had turned the ringtone off, so she had to keep her attention on her screen to make sure she wouldn't miss any new message.

She had been chatting with Clarke since the blonde had announced she was finished with her meal. She had received precise updates about Clarke's adventures to the Lockhart cocktail bar, a Harry Potter themed bar, and her phone had lightened up once again to tell her Clarke was back to her hotel room.

Lexa knew all about the ways Raven had yelled to the world that she belonged to Ravenclaw. She knew about the drunken encounter with a pure stranger claiming to be the prime minister in the bus. She knew about the way the duo had gotten lost on their way home because they had stopped to buy more food. She laughed when Clarke texted her something funny, and her smile disappeared whenever the mood shifted to a dimmer one.

She felt like she was with Clarke, exploring the streets of Toronto.

She felt like she had always been by Clarke's side.

She wished she could hear the way Clarke laughed, the way she spoke. She wished she could see the way Clarke's eyes went as bright as the most luminous stars when the blonde talked about something she loved. She wished she could feel Clarke's hand in hers, and that last thought left her speechless.

She was grateful to have the opportunity to know, really know, Clarke, and not simply rely on the physical hints.

Lexa was still deeply amazed at the way they just couldn't run out of subjects to talk about, no matter how small and irrelevant they were. She could have talk about how grass was green, and they still would have found a way to make this conversation the most interesting one in years. She didn't have to think for answers. They came to her naturally, and she always sent them without a second thought. She always received similar well thought innovative replies.

It made her smile more than she thought she could.

It made her glad to live.

It made her invincible against her own thoughts.

It didn't feel like they had met less than two weeks ago. It felt like they had already been through several lives together, fighting dragons in the ancient times, defying laws when their complicity could've been interpreted as a crime against humanity, standing side by side while facing the extinction of the human race.

Whenever a topic seemed to lose its spark, whenever words started circling around, they introduced new ones, over and over again, both denying the late hours and the blade of sleep over their heads.

They could never get enough.

There were not enough words in the world to make them satisfied.

If words ever started to run out, they would create new ones.

They would invent their whole alphabet, filled with new words, new expressions, new laughs and shining memories.

They would create a vocabulary made of little part of themselves, one that could only be understood by the two of them.

When all the possible words of all possible universes would be created, they would use drawings and signs, and they would never run out of things to tell each other.

They would create a whole universe full of new subjects to feed their discussions. Creativity had no limits.

If they ever reached the end of the world, the limits of limits, they would reset the laws of the universe and reach infinity.

If infinity didn't exist, they would paint new horizons on the walls that imprisoned them.

They would create the notion of infinity if they had to.

They learned a lot about each other, but Lexa had yet to introduce the fact that she had found Clarke's hidden message. She had learned however, that Clarke's _best_ _friend_ was the one travelling with the blonde.

It felt strangely like a parachute saving her from a terrifying free fall.

She briefly wondered how Clarke would qualify their relationship. Would it be friendship? And if so, what kind of friendship?

Clarke had asked her for the reasons of her journey as well.

Lexa had been unable to answer.

She didn't feel ready to share Costia's life with anyone, no matter how close she already felt to Clarke. She didn't want to explain the way Costia was gone from her life, the way she would always be gone. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to face these rotten memories, didn't want to associate Clarke's name with such painful thoughts.

Clarke's messages distracted her from looking at herself in the mirror and thinking about how lonely she appeared, standing by herself.

Now she stood with someone by her side, a blonde woman with an unknown voice.

Clarke's messages allowed her to feel like she wasn't travelling to run away from someone, but rather toward someone. Toward a new friend.

Toward happiness.

Clarke's message made her mind stop getting lost in all opposite directions. They made her ideas all coherent, pointing to a final goal.

She had a new reason to live. She didn't miss that part of her anymore. She didn't feel the void left by Costia's death as much as she did before.

Clarke's messages pulled her out of this awful, life threatening, self-destructive behavior she was constantly leaning toward.

She could feel the pocket knife's presence in her bag, taunting her state of mind.

But she could also ignore it now.

Clarke's message put Lexa on the map again.

Clarke's messages chased the melancholia away.

Clarke's message felt better than the pressure of a sharpened blade on her skin.

 _I've been flirting with sleep._

She typed drowsily, aware that she wouldn't be able to stay awake the whole night. She just didn't want to disappear on Clarke.

 ** _I've been dating sleep. We're engaged. Get in line._**

Lexa smiled sleepily at her phone, her head slightly hitting the bus window.

 _I will message you tomorrow. You are still going to be in Toronto, aren't you?_

Lexa's heartbeat increased in speed, and just in a few seconds, the woman suddenly felt very awake, waiting for the answer. She wanted to tell Clarke that maybe, by some extraordinary twist of fate, they could meet tomorrow.

It was sudden, and unexpected, and a pure act of madness, but it made some sort of sense in her mind. It was crazy, but Lexa couldn't ignore this unknown feeling taking life in her chest. She couldn't name it, describe it at all. For all she knew, it could mean nothing at all, but at this precise second, she couldn't ignore it.

She knew perfectly the danger of meeting a total stranger from the web. She was ready to run away at the first sight of creepiness from the first person she would see from the corner of her eyes, but she would be damned if she didn't at least try.

She had nothing to lose.

She had lost everything already.

Lexa's blood froze in her veins when she reads the next answer.

 ** _We're not staying in Toronto tomorrow actually. We were supposed to visit another park, but we changed our minds after today. There's this bungee jump outside the city. We're thinking of heading there, then to the airport after to fly over the ocean._**

Lexa's smile wavered and a shade of sadness soiled her facial expression. Of course, they had a change of plans. She had one too. It wasn't such a great rare thing.

She cleared her throat. It had become strangely dry.

She was going to Toronto one day earlier, and they had decided to visit the outside of the city that exact same day. That was it.

She wasn't sure if she was relieved or overwhelmed by disappointment.

She settled for a light feeling of disappointment until she realized Clarke's words. Clarke was moving across the ocean.

 ** _What about you? Still in NYC?_**

Lexa hesitated, but couldn't lie. She didn't want to lie to Clarke.

She wasn't someone who enjoyed being lied to.

Years ago, Costia's doctor had assured her the surgery had gone fine. He hadn't mentioned that his definition of 'fine' could be shattered by a simple infection.

She shook the thought away. Thinking of this moment would only do her harm.

Clarke's name would never be associated to her nightmares. Lexa would never let it happen.

Clarke's name would remain the light that protected Lexa against darkness.

 _I am in a bus. I left New York. The ocean?_

 ** _Europe. Starting with Paris._**

Lexa's smile died.

It wouldn't simply be a matter of spatial distance between them anymore. Time difference would play a role too, and it would grow worse, as Lexa was supposed to head in the opposite direction, to the West, to the Canadian Rockies.

She would wake up when Clarke would go to bed. She would burn under the sun's touch while Clarke would dream protected by the moon. She would drink coffee when Clarke would enjoy her last shot of the night. She would make her bed when Clarke would crash in hers.

She would say good night and Clarke would say good morning. Their roads were no longer the same and it had come too fast too soon for Lexa.

This time, the brutal punch of disappointment made her heart break in thousand pieces.

She realized she really wanted to meet Clarke. She sighed deeply, realizing she probably never would. This was reality. It wasn't a few messages per day that would keep them close.

She wondered if her days would go back to being nonexistent if she stopped telling Clarke about them.

She shivered at the thought. Maybe she was meant to walk this earth without truly existing.

The bus was still hours away from Toronto and Lexa suddenly wished she was already there.

So close. So far.

* * *

 **AN: I'm a proud overly polite Canadian.**

 **AN2: Soon... ish. Slowly but surely, we will deal with more angst.**

 **AN3: Next chapter: Wild Life**


	5. Wild Life

**Author note:**

 **As most of you (or as I'd like to think, all of you), I am devastated by what happened in Orlando. I am lucky enough to have my friends from Orlando all safe and well. I am lucky enough to live in a country and a city where these events are pratically nonexistents, where homophobia, while existing, does not rule. I have heard stories of people being kicked out of stores or being hit to the ground, but the homophobes' words are (mostly) muffled by the voices of allies. I am blessed with the fact that I live in a place where people prone diversity and actually create concrete laws to protect LGBTQ.**

 **I am deeply saddened by what happened and hope that all my LGBTQ family members from around the world find a safe place to be today, tonight, tomorrow and forever. Find help if you judge you need some. Find someone to talk to. Find something that makes you happy to be alive. Stand proudly against the world, and don't forget we all have your back. You are not alone and you will never be.**

 **I would like to say that this chapter is fluffy and happy and cheesy and romantic, and everything we deserve and more, but I write angst, and this chapter is no exception. It has a fair amount of sweet moments but we slowly learn more about the characters. I wrote it a few weeks back. I thought about changing it to something more positive, but it wouldn't be coherent with the story.**

 **The current chapter I'm working on, a few more later, will contain as much fluff as I can write without being sick of it. Because we deserve happiness.**

 **This fanfic will have a happy ending.**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa via twitter for proofreading.**

 **IMPORTANT: Trigger warning: Mentions of self-harm and suicide.**

 **Locations: Toronto at first.**

 _Italic_ **:** _Lexa to Clarke_

 ** _Bold Italic_ : Clarke to Lexa**

 **Second half of this chapter is inspired from the song 'Wild Life' by Hedley, a song that coincidentally represented my state of mind when I learned about Orlando.**

* * *

 **Wild Life**

 _I am in a bus. I left New York. The ocean?_

Clarke frowned in the darkness of her hotel room. She shook her head, dismissing the strange feeling that she was forgetting something, and answered Lexa's question.

 ** _Europe. Starting with Paris._**

She waited for Lexa to wish her well, to tell her to be happy for her new discoveries ahead, to ask her questions about her destination, anything, but no message came. She waited for a few minutes, bolting awake when it felt like her head was falling off of her body. She took deep breaths, did a few quiet jumping jacks, anything to keep herself awake, but eventually, her body gave up and she rested her head on her pillow.

She glanced a few times by the window, looking at the starless sky that meant she was in an urban area. The shiny golden dots were not here tonight to prevent her mind from tumbling to the unknown. It made her insecurities resurface and she knew it was time for her to force herself to sleep. It would help her to avoid falling down the path of grief and sorrow.

She waited for as long as she could, but fell asleep around three in the morning, to a phone voided of new messages and a mind trying to muffle uncertainties. Her phone remained at the side of her head until she moved in her sleep and it fell with a loud clank to the floor, not disturbing the pace of the peaceful night.

She dreamed of a bus making its way from New York City to Toronto.

* * *

Doubt appears in different forms, sometimes inoffensive, sometimes a ruthless weapon.

Doubt is a powerful force.

Everyone feels it.

Not everyone feels happiness nor sadness. Some people are never proud of themselves and keep dealing with self-esteem issues. Some people are constantly proud of themselves and keep promoting their skills to whoever pretends to care. Some people claim they are never scared, until something makes their soul hide elsewhere. Some people never feel empathy, nor sympathy. Some people only feel what others do. Some people never cry, some never laugh, some never go through any emotion at all and some fall under the weight of feelings.

Not everyone feels something.

But doubt is universal.

In every single person is born a seed of doubt. It grows, always, and keeps growing until it cannot be ignored anymore. It flies past every defense erected by the person and attacks, anywhere, anytime, no matter what the circumstances are, no matter how ready or not the person is.

It is merciless. It can destroy a person's self-esteem in seconds.

The most confident person feels doubts when confronted to a new challenge. They may never show it, but it is there.

The most heartless murderer feels doubts when his routine is perturbed.

The most impassible psychopath feels doubt when his needs are not satisfied.

The most daring people feel doubts when their actions become regulated by punishments.

The narcissists feed on doubts when no admiration is thrown their way.

The paranoiacs have adopted doubts as their children.

Doubt doesn't fear anything nor anyone. It doesn't feel pity at all. It mocks people, painting them a new color when they turn their back to it. It transforms the most determined person into the greatest coward in the world. It destroys a person's character if it decides to reach higher levels, trading safety for paranoia.

It makes people stop. It makes them unsure of their capabilities, of their next course of actions. It makes them stop acting. It blocks their motivation. It carries fear to the heart of everyone, regardless of where they came from and who they were; fear of doing wrong, of moving forward, of acting.

It tells the world to stop, because they might fail, because they might become a nuisance.

It tells people 'what if?', and human beings despise uncertainties. The thought of their ego being bruised is unbearable. So they settle. They don't risk it. They don't try.

It makes friends become enemies. It breaks families. It burns one's worth down.

It orders the strongest person to lay down, to obey to its commands.

It appears in the form of another person, of an event, of an unfortunate situation. It appears in the form of fear, of hate directed toward anything different from one's beliefs, in enemies made from imaginary stories. It appears in words, in thoughts. It is made of nothing, and everything at the same time. It never asks for anything, except a person's capacities.

Once someone doubts their capacity, it becomes the way they imagine it to be.

It almost had Lexa. Almost made her run back to New York.

But doubt can also be strength, pushing one forward, always and forever. It can motivate someone to always break limits, to always innovate in the ways they act. It can be the last rush of energy that leads someone to cross the finish line.

Doubt for a system, a government, politics, laws and everything in between, is what revolutions are born from.

Doubt is a strength.

But only to those who knows how to use it to move forward.

* * *

Clarke woke up when she felt the sun rays burning her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a minute to remember when she was. The remaining mist of her dreams disappeared from her mind when she awoke fully and the memory of the bus faded away, as if it was never there in the first place. She sat on her bed, thoughts still a little lost in the fog of sleep. Barely awake, she reached for her phone, noticing the absence of message.

Her absent brain convinced her Lexa had probably fallen asleep and she quickly typed a good morning text, a habit she had developed in the last week.

She blinked a few times, still unsure of her plans for the day. She was about to let another loud yawn out when she felt a pillow hit the back of her head.

"It's about time," Raven yelled in her ears. "I've been trying to wake you up for the past two hours! I even jumped on your bed and you didn't flinch. I even poured ice cubes on you and you didn't feel anything. You never sleep that hard unless you pull an all-nighter."

"I didn't," Clarke muttered hoarsely, faint ideas of messages exchanged across the distance in her mind.

She stretched and jumped out of bed. She moved lazily around the room, gathering her clothes for the day and ignoring the impatient looks on Raven's face. She finally gave in and started looking for any hint of the time.

"Ten? Raven?! It's ten o'clock!"

"I did try to wake you up."

"We were supposed to leave Toronto two minutes ago!"

Clarke ran to the bathroom, kicking her clothes out of the way. They had made a mess, and they still had to clean the room before leaving. The blonde's top flew from the bathroom as she raced against time to get dressed. It landed on the top of Raven's head.

"We won't make it on time, Clarke. I messaged the guy who was supposed to drive us. He's leaving in five minutes. And even if we caught another lift, we wouldn't make it in time for our appointment."

Clarke cursed under her breath. She knew perfectly they wouldn't make it in time, but she had to try. Every item she owned went flying inside her luggage and she sat on its top, forcing it to close. It resisted, but she was stronger, and the efforts she had put to make it happen gave her the opportunity to evacuate her inner frustration.

She rushed like never before as Raven stared at her. Clarke had this nagging feeling that she was forgetting something, that there was something in the back of her mind. It yearned for freedom, but was trapped between the stitches of denial.

It was important, but not enough for her to remember it.

Or perhaps was it too important, and the unconscious part of her knew not to disturb her with it until she had finished with her current task.

She ran to the door as Raven locked it, in perfect synchronization. They caught the first cab they could and headed downtown, eyes fixated on their phones as they tried to find an alternative way to remain true to their original plan.

They had an appointment at three in the afternoon to jump off a cliff, at the Great Canadian Bungee. It was something they both wanted, needed, to do. It was the main reason for them to stop in Canada.

They didn't want to miss it for anything in the world, but they both knew they would never make it in time. It took over four hours by car to reach the place, and it was already eleven in the morning. Their plane left Toronto at ten tonight, and their original plan was to go from the Great Canadian Bungee to the airport.

Everything was planned to the second. Their perfect domino schedule fell apart.

They made a dozen calls and by some miracle, managed to reschedule their jump appointment to later this afternoon. They wouldn't make it back to Toronto airport on time, but the bungee location was two hours from Montreal, and they decided to fly from there instead. They changed their planes tickets for a flight to Paris, from Montreal, for a departure the next day in the evening.

It had costed them a small fortune, but they couldn't skip the bungee jump. Even if it ruined them, they couldn't.

The last thing they needed was a one-way rental car, any car, in the next hour. They found a place that offered this service, and practically ran inside. They waited in line impatiently, Raven updating Octavia of the sudden change, while Clarke assured the mechanic student she would alert the adults.

Clarke's hand stopped moving when she noticed the flagrant absence of new message. The ghost of the last message she received flashes through her mind and suddenly, a wave of realization threw her off balance.

Lexa.

Lexa had left New York. Lexa's next destination was Toronto. Lexa would be in Toronto today.

Clarke cursed herself for forgetting something so important.

Lexa's name flashed through Clarke mind, like a director that would direct her future actions. It blinded her thoughts, blew her calm away. It was a sudden awareness and Clarke had not been ready for the shock in her system.

Lexa's face flashed as well, the profile picture of the young woman engraved in Clarke's soul. Her emerald eyes. Her brown hair. Her hypnotizing features and undeniable beauty.

Clarke didn't understand why she gave it so much importance, but she did. She couldn't ignore it. The few conversations she had shared with Lexa had put her in the spotlight again. They made sense. They made her move with the world, rather than being a simple passenger. They pushed her toward an invisible tunnel full of life.

When she talked with Lexa, Clarke felt like there were no mountains to cross anymore, because she was already on the other side of them.

When Clarke forced herself to stay awake so she wouldn't miss a single word sent her way, she felt like dreams were meant to happen when she was awake.

When the young artist answered her messages, half awake and blinded by the screen in the early hours of the morning, she felt like chatting with Lexa was worth having her retinas burned by the brightest stars.

Lexa showed her the right way, whatever it was.

A wave of anxiety slammed into her. She felt the pores of her skin release sweat and her face felt hotter than before. Her breathing increased in pace and her throat felt dry. She felt the slight nausea in her stomach and cleared her voice.

She needed to get out of Toronto. She didn't know where this irrational fear of being in the same city as Lexa came from, but she couldn't fight it. She felt the walls moving to crush her bones, the ceiling charging toward her. The city was not large enough for the both of them to be there, and one of them was going to leave its life behind, and Clarke felt it was her.

What would she do if she came to face with Lexa?

Would it still be easy to talk to her? Would the complicity still be there?

Would it destroy them?

Would the unique way they communicated together be ruined, if they met in real life?

Would reality catch up with them and shatter the illusion of their perfect bond?

She had no idea how fragile their relationship was, whatever it was. She had no idea whether or not their flaws would overcome the bond they had formed over the past weeks, but she hated this idea.

She couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk ruining them, she wouldn't let it happen.

She managed to calm herself when Raven noticed the state of pure panic she was engulfed in. Clarke counted to ten in her head. Again. Again. She stared at specific objects and described them in her head. Color. Shape. Height. Possible weight. Utility. Another. Another. Until the feeling of dying passed.

The blonde needed to stay in Toronto just a little longer. She needed to support the distress, for Raven at least. She knew how badly Raven needed to do that jump too. She wouldn't ruin it.

If only the line to rent a car could move faster, Clarke would kiss the cashier.

A sudden loud thud of two objects colliding made the heads of all clients turn to the glass door.

Clarke felt her blood transform to ice.

* * *

Toronto was loud, big and scary at moments, but not as much as New York, and already, Lexa's shoulders felt lighter than a mere few hours ago. The young woman got off the bus, back aching from sitting in the same position for so long.

She sighed. This was Toronto. This was the city Clarke would be leaving soon, if not already. Lexa didn't know Clarke's detailed schedule and she didn't want to ask for it. There was no point in pursuing more than simple detached contact. They would head in opposite ways, and even their complicity couldn't make them drop their entire already planned itinerary.

It had taken her an excessive amount of self-control to stop answering Clarke's message the night before. The only reason she had managed such exploit was because she feared she would say too much. Lack of sleep was a perfect inhibitor to her internal filter.

A tiny part of her had pushed her to tell Clarke to wait so they could organize a meeting.

An average sized part of her had feared such meeting.

A much more massive part of her had insisted on keeping quiet. She wouldn't disturb Clarke's plans because of her irrational feelings of closeness with a total stranger.

The good morning expected text had tested her as well, in a way she hadn't thought she could be tested.

She had doubted herself in the bus, regretting her decision to move to Toronto earlier.

She had doubted her capacity to meet Clarke properly, if it ever happened.

But she had surpassed that small feeling inside her that asked her to adapt her actions to a stranger's hypothetical presence in her life. She was Lexa. She would do whatever she needed to do to please herself, to keep moving forward because she had spent too much time running in circles already.

She immediately searched for a car renting place. She had studied closely Toronto's metro map, and had come to the conclusion that it was worthless. Its four lines were mainly focused downtown and Lexa wanted to explore the distant neighborhood's secrets.

She hated the expected tourist traps, and she had no intention of staying in the middle of buildings, when she had left another city for the exact same reason. She would rent a car and improvise the way she always did when she changed her plans.

She would probably pass by the hiking parks Clarke had mentioned in her messages.

She smiled at the memory of their detailed conversation. Clarke had had a hard day, but Lexa could only smile when she had been told the story.

Lexa was not one to get lost in the wild. She had an excellent internal compass and always seemed to know which road to take, without ending in the middle of nowhere. She could've helped Clarke get out of this park in two minutes. She had made sure to tell Clarke.

She was so focused on her phone's map that she almost disfigured herself by the violent collision she made with the rental office's door. It made a loud echo in the room and all clients turned to her. She blinked a few times, trying to ignore the aching pain traveling through her face. She stared at the floor for a long minute, massaging her temples.

She wasn't embarrassed. She simply really disliked the feeling of colliding with a door.

She finally managed to kick the stinging feeling out, and she walked inside.

The room was crowded, but her eyes left the floor to find home in the bluest irises she had ever seen. She lost herself in them, forgetting the existence of every other color, because none of them could ever match this shade of blue and their magic. She felt transported to the sea, to the sky, in an ocean of azure.

A fraction of second later, the embarrassment knocked her out.

She traded the look of being in trance in front of such eyes, for the impassive one she mastered, despite the slight blush visible on her cheeks. Lexa coughed the uneasiness away, imperceptibly, and mentally reprimanded herself for acting this way. Her eyes traced the lines of the face that belonged to the woman she needed to apologize to, but the words remained stuck in her throat.

Even if she opened her mouth, which she couldn't do, she knew no sound would come out.

Lexa felt everything she ever knew about logic disappear. Everything about statistics, odds, possibilities and probabilities escaped her knowledge. Everything about impossibilities and chances, luck and misfortune, vanished from her brain. A single name replaced everything.

Clarke Griffin.

It had to be. It couldn't not be her.

Lexa scanned the woman as quickly as she could without getting caught in all the small details that built her undeniable beauty. She felt irresistibly attracted by this person. She felt the gravity shift between the two of them, and judging by the way Clarke looked at her, Lexa knew she wasn't the only one to notice it.

Lexa stayed immobile. She didn't step closer, but didn't move back either. Frankly, she had no idea what to do. Should she step in and introduce herself? Should she run away in the opposite direction? This place was the last place in the entire city she had expected to meet the blonde woman.

She straightened her posture. She was Lexa. She did not let another person intimidate her simply by being there. It was ridiculous. She had faced greater challenges than this one.

She wanted to run and hide under a rock.

She took a step forward and immediately noticed the way Clarke's eyes focused on her once again, as if they were struck by a spell. The blonde seemed to realize how real, how irrefutable this situation's existence was.

Lexa was not afraid of much, but at this moment, she could feel her entire being under the attacks of nervousness. She opened her mouth to say something, anything at all, when a hand waiting to be shaken appeared in front of her.

"I'm Raven," a small confident woman declared, blocking Lexa's way to Clarke.

* * *

The silence was deafening. The only sound that could be heard was the car's motor and the way the wind blew inside, as the three of them headed toward the location of the Great Canadian bungee.

It was like any human voice would make the car explode and send them in separate ways.

Lexa usually enjoyed silence, but this time she would have done anything to break it.

Raven was driving, as Clarke and Lexa sat in the back. It had been completely ridiculous, the way Raven had claimed she needed the front passenger seat to put her bag, in case she would need to take something from it while she was driving.

Clarke had shot lightning at her friend, as she had taken place beside Lexa, making sure to leave enough space between them. The blonde had no idea how to deal with this situation. Nothing in her life had prepared her for something like that. It was a brand new scenario being written, and she was terrified she would ruin the play.

She had not expected to meet Lexa.

She had not been ready for the way her heart had nearly jump off her chest, the way her eyes had been glued on the woman, and the way her thoughts had transformed into a total disorder.

They had not exchanged many words. In fact, most of the conversation had been between Lexa and Raven, the latter asking Lexa to come with them. Lexa had been taken off guard, and had released a small "yes", before even realizing what was happening.

They exchanged a few looks as Raven spied them in the rearview mirror, and Lexa finally turned to Clarke.

"You're the one responsible for my horrific lack of sleep."

Clarke smirked.

"You're the one starting midnight conversations."

Raven frowned.

"You're the one leaving me out of this precious information, C? I knew this morning was suspicious."

Clarke chuckled, and just like magic, the tension broke. They had spent the first two hours in complete silent, besides Raven trying to spark a conversation. The air had almost crushed them alive.

"Clarke Griffin," Clarke introduced herself with a polite smile, despite her eyes shining brighter than ever.

"Lexa Woods," Lexa said with a posed tone, despite her need to shout her excitement to the world.

Lexa hadn't expected to meet Clarke either.

She had not expected the way her entire body had tingled at Clarke's view, the way her throat seemed to stop functioning, and the way she related this feeling to the one she had had whenever she saw Costia for the first time.

The intensity of it all had shocked her.

They fell into a comfortable small silence, but it didn't last long. Lexa had questions flying around her head, and she couldn't not ask them.

"You were in Toronto," she stated.

It wasn't a question. She clearly remembered the way Clarke had mentioned she would be gone.

Lexa couldn't help but wonder if Clarke had lied to her. She really hoped not.

"I slept in," Clarke shrugged, "We missed our ride and we had to change our schedule. Raven said I must have stayed awake too late last night."

Lexa nodded in understanding. She knew exactly why Clarke had stayed up too late last night. They both did. The explanation was made from text messages and quiet laughs in the dark. It was made from two people being together despite being separated by 490 miles.

"We're going to do that jump, and then we're heading to Montreal. Our flight is tomorrow," Raven added.

Lexa nodded once again. She still wasn't sure what had pushed her to accept Raven's sudden invitation, but she knew she wanted to stay around the two other women longer. She had this need to know Clarke, the real person behind the screen.

She felt like it was now or never. Just how many times would she get the chance to meet Clarke anyway? Not many.

She had one day to know Clarke Griffin.

Just twenty-four hours.

It felt like it was a lifetime, and yet, she was afraid to miss her chance in the blink of an eye.

"Will I have to jump?" Lexa asked, a slight cloud of anxiety appearing over her.

She had accepted Raven's invitation so fast that she hadn't have time to process where she was going, and what she would have to do. She could only grab her bags and ride with them. She didn't regret it. She knew she would've regretted staying behind in Toronto more.

"No," Clarke answered with a reassuring smile. "But I'm sure watching is just as scary."

Lexa sighed in relief. Bungee jumping seemed a bit too much for her. She felt her heart still knocking aggressively in her chest.

She wondered if jumping from a cliff could be as intense as the way she felt when she first saw Clarke standing in front of her.

Surely, the shock couldn't be as unexpected.

Surely, the way her heart had almost stopped beating, while also being on the edge of exploding, could not be matched.

Surely, the painfully embarrassing way she had been incapable to do anything but stare, could not be reached.

The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that bungee jumping was nothing compared to the feeling of facing Clarke for the first time.

But she would never know unless she jumped, and she had no intention of doing so today.

They didn't talk much, as if Raven's presence forced them to filter their words, something they weren't used to do. There was no filter between them when they exchanged messages of all sorts.

There were so many things Lexa wanted to ask, so many questions, but she could not speak.

They arrived at their destination a little after four, just in time for their appointment. The cliff, also named The Rock, was exactly as they expected it to be: terribly high. It was surrounded by trees and distant mountains, and the simple crane that allowed people to walk over the emptiness seemed fragile enough to surrender under their weight. The jump ended right above the surface of a clear, royal blue colored lake.

It was a gorgeous place to defy death.

The rocky cliff was a beautiful tombstone.

After a quick introduction on safety, Raven and Clarke high fived and started to get ready, physically and mentally, for the next step.

Lexa didn't feel safe at all. She would stay on land, but the thought of Clarke attempting to fly in such conditions petrified her. Who, in their right state of mind, would willingly jump off a cliff from a height of 61 meters? Who, in their right state of mind, would willingly jump and trust a mere elastic to save their life?

Certainly not Lexa. She had once jumped from her balcony in an attempt to look fierce to another girl when she was seven, and it had resulted in a broken leg.

"Be safe," Lexa whispered to Clarke, as the blonde got ready to walk in the reserved zone.

She had just found Clarke. They had barely started to talk. They had had a nanosecond of interaction, compared to the age of the universe.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but Lexa felt inexplicably connected to Clarke.

It meant something. What exactly, she didn't know, but it was greater, stronger, wilder than they both pretended it to be.

The amount of time they had spent together was nothing. It was not enough. And if Lexa had no idea where all those thought suddenly came from, she didn't deny them. She meant them.

She didn't want to lose Clarke.

"I will."

Clarke had sense the serious tone hidden behind the light murmur. Whatever its meaning, the artist knew she could not tease Lexa about it.

She would stay safe. She thought she would even avoid the jump if Lexa asked her to.

But Lexa didn't ask, because she knew, deep inside, that Clarke had to jump. The blonde walked to join Raven on the giant white metallic structure as Lexa stepped away. She would watch Clarke fly from a distance.

Raven exchanged a quick glance with Clarke. The mechanic student would be the first to jump. Clarke hadn't even asked. She knew. They both needed to jump, but Raven had to go first.

Raven would not survive the sight of Clarke jumping into the void. Raven would never survive the sight of Clarke's body shooting through the air, especially if there was an accident.

Raven had seen someone jump once, but there had been no elastic, no thread of hope, no string to link the person to life.

They walked forward on the narrow path in direction of the tiny platform.

They stood at the edge of the world. Wherever they looked, their sights caught the views of distant mountains, of green forests, of the peaceful water at the end of the vertiginous fall. The sun seemed like a ball of fire illuminating the clear blue firmament. Not one cloud dared disturb them, not one bird dared fly to block their view. They felt more alone than ever before, facing the wildness that could either protect them or murder them.

Clarke's eyes met Raven's, and a raw message passed through them. They felt connected. Their emotions were the same. At this exact second, this exact moment in time, they were one person.

They were a person who had been through hell. They had followed the same path, had flirted with the same pain, had struggled at redemption, and had watched another companion fall to the hands of death. They had been tortured by life, nearly missing the finish line of this torturous part of their existence.

By some miracle, they had found a way out.

Still, they needed to do this jump.

From the moment they had planned their itinerary, they had added this specific place. It wasn't a simple jump for them. It was much more than that. It was a dive toward a small circle of water. It was a dive to defy death, to mock the end of life, to laugh in the face of danger.

It was a dive to prove themselves that falling wasn't associated uniquely with death. It was a step into the emptiness that would give them the feeling of being invincible, rather than the opposite.

They needed to know it was possible to jump from such height and survive.

They needed to know it was possible to become a bullet tearing air apart, and survive the impact.

They needed to know that jumping didn't mean dying, that falling didn't trigger the absence of heartbeat.

They needed to know that facing the horizon from this height, looking down at the view, didn't mean they were ready to leave this world.

They needed to know that it was possible to survive the jump, because the thought of Finn, making the decision to learn how to fly from the highest bridge of their city, was burned into their soul. The picture of Finn falling to his death would never leave Raven's mind.

She had been the sole witness of this tragedy.

The haunting vision of his body smashing in the water, to later emerge lifeless, still appeared whenever she closed her eyes. The way Raven's sobs on the phone had shattered Clarke's inner peace never left the blonde either.

Raven's boyfriend had died from the guilt he felt about Wells' death.

When the blonde had received the phone call, Clarke's sanity had died from the guilt she felt about Wells and Finn's death. She had her reasons and even Raven could not deny them. It had affected Clarke's mental health a lot more than she showed it.

They needed to know they could survive the jump because they needed the slight hope that, even standing at the top, Finn's heart still unconsciously contained a drop of hope of surviving the fall in the middle of despair.

They needed to know, because they couldn't keep going with Finn's suicide on their mind. They couldn't fear heights anymore. They couldn't support the thought that jumping meant dying.

They would jump.

They would fear for their lives.

They would survive.

They would cry.

They would curse the world the way it had once cursed one's soul.

They would hate themselves for being alive.

They would heal.

Raven went first. She stood on the tiniest platform, only attached to life by an elastic. She looked straight ahead. The beauty of the horizon didn't ease the pain in her heart. It didn't stop the thoughts. It didn't stop the storm in her head, the hole in her heart. It didn't stop her insecurities, her low self-esteem, her sadness. It didn't stop anything, because instead of seeing trees and mountains, she saw the tall buildings facing the haunting bridge.

She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way her soul kept going back to Finn's lifeless body floating on the water. She jumped head first, just like she was diving into a pool of clear water.

She screamed like it was the first time she could speak in her entire life. She yelled her anger away and all the injustices crushing her mind were liberated into the void. The sound of her voice destroyed all notion of quiet within miles.

When the boat came to detach her, sixty-one meters lower, she felt more alive than she had ever felt before.

It felt incredibly good and she hoped Finn felt better where he was.

Clarke followed soon after, her mind into a different world than the one she was physically trapped in.

She felt right back in the one late evening that had changed, once more, the way she saw life. A few weeks only after Wells' death, Raven's name had illuminated her phone screen. She remembered Raven's broken voice and the way her words were impossible to understand. She remembered the way she had managed to discern three little words, enough for her to break down too.

The message had been loud and clear. Finn had succumbed to death's call.

There was something about the way Clarke stood on the tiny platform, looking ahead, but also looking back, as if she was juggling with the idea of jumping.

There was something about the way Clarke stood strong, while being so broken at the same time. It made Lexa's arms unconsciously rise, as if she wanted to catch the weakened angel.

There was something about the way Clarke decided to fall, rather than take a step ahead. She didn't take a run-up. She didn't move her arms forward like Raven did. She simply fell ahead, letting gravity do the rest of the job.

There was something about the way the blonde silhouette fell without letting any cry out. It made Lexa's soul hurt for the other woman, because the silence was terribly loud in this situation.

There was something about the gracious way she touched the surface of the water before being pulled back in the air. It made Lexa's mouth remain open in awe.

There was something about the way she seemed to smile while tears were streaming down her face. It made Lexa want to wipe those tears away.

There was something about seeing Clarke's body brush against death, while never crossing the line. It made Lexa worry about losing her, the same way she used to fear for Costia's life.

Why did Clarke want to risk her life? Lexa never wanted her to be in any danger.

Why did Clarke, or anyone, risk their life willingly when others were struggling to take one more breath?

There was something about the way Clarke laid in the boat after her fall, looking at the sky like she had never seen anything more beautiful. It made Lexa look at her like she was more gorgeous than the blue firmament.

There was something about the way Lexa pushed her shyness apart for a moment, embracing Clarke as soon as they were standing on the same land. It made them want to remain like this until the end of time.

There was something about the way Lexa thanked Clarke for being alive, and the way Clarke thanked Lexa for being there. It made them feel grateful for life, for the first time since forever.

There was something about the way Clarke smiled back, with a new spark in her eyes, something Raven hadn't noticed since Clarke's last boyfriend. It made Raven look at Lexa in a different way.

There was something about Lexa's heart. It just couldn't stop racing.

It was that little something, along with all those little aspects of Clarke, that made Lexa cross the line to reach deeper feelings.

The young woman with green irises just couldn't define them yet.

Or maybe she could, but refused to admit it.

* * *

The ride to Montreal was quiet. Both Raven and Clarke were lost in their thoughts, and Lexa knew enough to not disturb them. She didn't know what was so precious about this jump, but she would never disturb them.

She wouldn't ask. She would wait until she was given explanations, if they wished her to know. She had secrets of her own, and she knew what it felt like to be respected.

The way Raven kept her eyes on the road and the way Clarke stared out of the window like she was in another world made Lexa wonder if she had made the right choice to follow them. She shook her head slightly. Of course, she had made the right choice. Sitting right beside Clarke proved it.

Lexa wasn't stupid. She had noticed the emotional way the two women had come back from their jump. She had noticed their tears and the way they held each other's hand.

She knew, from Raven's earlier introduction, that both women were best friends. She couldn't help feeling a tiny indescribable pinch in her heart. She still had no idea who Wells was, but a part of her was relieved he wasn't the one traveling with Clarke.

She almost rolled her eyes at herself. She wouldn't get jealous for people she didn't even know. It was childish of her.

She fell asleep soon after they left Ontario, and when she woke, it was past eight in the evening and her phone was buzzing in her pocket. She quickly noticed Clarke staring at her with a shy smile on the corner of her mouth.

 ** _You look cute when you sleep. But we're here, so wake up?_**

Lexa managed to not smile too hard at the message.

Clarke called her cute.

Lexa thought she was nothing compared to Clarke.

The blonde had hesitated before sending this message, but seeing the way Lexa embarrassingly wiped her eyes was worth it.

Lexa still had no idea what she was going to do here. She just wanted to follow Clarke, as crazy as it sounded. The Montreal skyline welcomed her. It resembled the Toronto's skyline, without the impressive CN Tower aiming for the sky. The sky was tainted by orange and purple shades, and Lexa immediately felt embraced by the disappearing sun.

The province of Quebec held a unique historical background from the rest of Canada.

It was the starting point of the colonization of the continent by French Europeans, centuries ago.

Then, it became the black sheep of Canada after the British's invasion.

It had almost separated from Canada, but both referendums had failed to gain the majority of voters.

Its norms, values and cultural background made it a slightly different place than the rest of the country, less conservative, while still being part of the same community. Its population had guarded fiercely its French language and culture for years, despite the assimilation threats coming from everywhere around them.

The 'French versus English' debate never got old.

While the rest of Canada celebrated the Queen's legacy or the first of July, Quebec people gave much more importance to the celebration of the Saint-Jean Baptiste, the national holiday of the province. They promoted their nationality proudly and threw the biggest parties for their province rather than their country. The independence stakes of the province still remained a sore subject within the population, as most of the new generation identified as federalists.

Perhaps it was the people's strong collective identity that was responsible for their high levels of happiness in this province, higher than the rest of Canada and other industrial countries. The citizens of the French province were the champions of happiness, just behind Denmark.

Raven had called to book a hotel room in Old Montreal. Lexa had done the same. They made their way downtown with a rudimentary application from Clarke's phone. While still being in Canada, it felt like they were entering a whole new country in which French dominated.

Clarke loved improvising her way through new towns, but this city left her clueless. The street names were in French, and the atmosphere was different from the one in Toronto. They could simply feel the mix of cultures, of ethnicities and religions that made Montreal distinct from other places in the province of Quebec.

"Hotel?" Raven asked.

They were exhausted from the day, and had already booked a place to stay for the night.

"Don't get lost." Clarke answered.

"Don't be a terrible co-pilot."

They drove on Berri street and easily found themselves amongst taller buildings. They passed by the popular Jardins Gamelins area, a popular place for people to spend the evening and watch free concerts. They crossed the Place des Arts area, where diverse shows were displayed. It was well known for hosting many festivals during summer.

When she looked back, Clarke noticed the opposite side of Sainte Catherine street. She had heard about the Montreal gay Village. It was decorated with bright neon pink balls suspended in the air, over a hundred thousand of them. It witnessed all kind of behaviors from the late evening to the earlier mornings.

While being a smaller city than the well-known Toronto, Montreal had a fair reputation for its nightlife and diversity. Canada's past metropolis welcomed everyone.

They drove on René-Levesque Boulevard to quickly snap a picture of Chinatown, and came back to Sainte Catherine street to drive amongst the thousand lights from downtown Montreal.

They heard a few people in sport themed restaurants loudly cheering for their hockey team winning their latest game. They realized what it meant when tourists called hockey the 'religion of Montreal'. It was not an understatement.

They were on the corner of Sainte Catherine and McGill street when they found themselves unable to drive farther, as a line of immobile cars stopped them.

"What now?" Clarke asked.

Raven tried to peek at what was going on ahead of them, but was unable to see anything. They couldn't move, and a whole ten minutes passed before something happened.

 _I can't believe you woke me up just to be caught in traffic._

Clarke snorted at Lexa's text and playfully punch the girl's shoulder. It didn't feel strange at all for them to communicate this way rather than with spoken words. It felt natural. It felt like they were meant to communicate this way, even when they were so close to each other. It felt like they could keep some sort of secrecy in their interactions.

 ** _Forgive me?_**

Clarke blinked innocently, and Lexa's weakness for blue eyes got the best of her. Clarke could declare war against her, and Lexa would still forgive her. Clarke could decimate her armies, and Lexa would still forgive her. Clarke could murder her and Lexa would still be unable to be mad.

They couldn't see anything, but they could hear the crowd. People were chanting, yelling slogans in a language they couldn't understand. Soon enough, they were surrounded by people walking in the streets, toward them, arriving from the opposite direction.

"They're screaming something about tuitions and social justice," Lexa translated.

"You understand them?" Raven asked as if Lexa suddenly came from another universe.

"A little. Anya and I love languages. You never know when it might be useful. We created our own a few years ago and called it tridegasleng."

The crowd was screaming, banging on pans and waving giant red flags and posters. It was composed mainly from young adults, probably college students, each of them having a small red square pinned to their shirt.

The color of blood seemed to dominate them. Amongst the families and students, the three women could see a group dressed in black, waving bisected red and black flags, symbols of anarcho-syndicalism.

Everyone walked in the middle of the street. They made it their own and disturbed the circulation. While most of them were pacifist, the masked group dressed in black threw rocks at random windows and at some of the cars. Lexa could see the infamous red and blue lights of police cars following the crowd from behind.

Soon enough, the few individuals from the front line disappeared, and were replaced by an ocean of people submerging them from all sides. The three women trapped in their car wouldn't have been able to leave it, even if they wanted to.

The crowd sang tales of social justice, promoted equality and equity, spoke against neocapitalism and denounced the corrupted government. They yelled their thoughts about what a fair society should be, claiming they could do better than the one percent of privileged people in control. They carried dreams of a better tomorrow in their eyes, and the will to change the world flowed in their blood.

"They request the corrupted to fall down so that they can bring everyone to the same level again."

Lexa had studied revolutions in classes. She knew what drove them. They were driven by the hope of making a change, of being the generation that would take down the unfair system that ruled their society. They believed in themselves and their vision of the world. They wanted the rotten apples to be thrown out. They had enough of being treated like ignorant idiots by their manipulators.

But was it really possible for them to succeed, to make their utopia happen? Was it truly realistic of them to ask for a world where community was never governed by one supreme power? A thousand years ago, yes. But today, with a population of many million people, how could it be?

It was loud. So loud that Lexa felt a slight headache take over her mind. Clarke noticed the way the woman winced at the sound, and a worried look appeared in her eyes.

 ** _Are you alright?_**

The noise was a beast and Lexa was too tired to fight.

 _I don't like this. What is happening?_

 ** _I wish I knew._**

It took a millisecond for Clarke to gather the courage to slowly move her hand to Lexa's. The contact offered them a sense of calm in such disorder.

A manifestation that had first seemed to be about education transformed to a great social movement in front of their eyes, as they could do nothing but wait until the wave passed.

Everyone walked side by side. Despite the late hours, families with young kids participated, and elders had no difficulty to follow the rhythm. There were thousands of people.

Gradually, the calm gifted its place to chaos, as the radicals lighted up firecrackers, and the peaceful walk became a stormy riot within seconds.

Black smoke spoiled the air around them, and the smell of tear gas made its way inside their car. They could hear distant shouts from the riot police trying to contain the crowd, setting boundaries that were always taken down by more protesters. They saw shadows running with gas grenades in their hands, occasionally throwing them at the cops.

They witnessed people being violently thrown to the ground as the law of the jungle replaced the usual order. They heard cries of pain, and swallowed in fear when people came too close to their car.

It wasn't a calm walk anymore. It was a whole different way to be heard from the people in command. It fully bloomed to a war zone when the car next to them was turned over by an angry crowd and set on fire.

"We need to leave!" Raven said quickly as she pressed the accelerator and tried to zigzag between the scattered crowd.

She didn't go far until she stopped, almost colliding with a wall of policemen, walking slowly but surely in the direction of the messy disorder.

The world caught on fire, and the rescue was nowhere. Laws were forgotten, and civilization disappeared. Shops were vandalized, and the only language left was the one of violence. Police set traps to capture as many people as they could. It was an exchange between a team of order controlled by the hand of corruption, and a team of chaos convinced they could win this war by throwing rocks and screaming insults.

Families were gone. The only people left were those whose spirit was not afraid to take the fall.

An atmosphere of fear had replaced the previous friendly one. They noticed a few people holding their wounds, blood escaping their body. Each of them refused to give up. They never ran away despite the increasing number of cops, and the confrontation lasted for hours.

It wasn't nearly as close as a real disaster like those they saw in movies, but it was enough to make Clarke feel the bite of fear on her neck.

Whenever protesters were hit by the police's forces, they struck back. Whenever one started to retreat, more took their place. Whenever one fell in the hand of the enemy, an army of civils fought to free them.

Whenever blood was spilled in one camp, the other made sure to attack back.

It was an eye for an eye.

It was a 'blood must have blood' policy that governed the atmosphere.

A rock smashed in their car's window, and Clarke flinched. An ugly crack marked the window. Lexa held the blonde's hand strongly, reminding her they were together. She texted a few words with her free hand, and kept her eyes on Clarke.

 _Look at me._

Clarke's blue eyes moved to find shelter in Lexa's green ones. There was no fear in Lexa's eyes, only reassurance. She was the calm in the storm. She was the stillness when the world shook in despair. She remained steady when Clarke was afraid to fall. She reminded Clarke of where they were, where they truly were. They weren't in a war zone. Both women breathed a little easier.

 _We're fine. You're fine._

Raven managed to find a small hidden street to hide. They waited.

"Should've stayed in Toronto," she muttered as the distant sirens rang louder.

"You couldn't predict this. I read about this in the newspapers," Lexa said. "It isn't a good time to visit. Students are on a strike and they organize a walk everyday. I hear it is related to tuition fees and its raise."

"Where are the polite and nice Canadians everyone keeps talking about?" Raven protested.

They heard a few explosions behind them, and saw police cars racing through the streets, chasing the last fearless individuals defying the order.

When the silence came back, Raven drove in an empty street, the car's headlights illuminating their way through a thin veil of smoke. Despite their closed windows, their eyes slightly hurt from the gas.

They reached the hotel with adrenaline leaving their body, and the weight of their day felt heavy on their back. They were exhausted, and the car was in terrible state.

It was the calm after the storm, and Clarke realized the only reason she had managed to stay calm was because of Lexa's hand in hers. It had been her anchor to reality.

 ** _Thank you._**

It was the silence after the explosion of loudness, and Lexa realized the only reason she had managed to keep breathing was because of Clarke's presence by her side. It had been a shield against the bombs.

It had been the peace sign making its way through war.

 _No. Thank you._

They both remembered the faint melody of the song that had played at the radio during their time stuck in traffic.

A tale of wild life, world burning down and civilization crashing.

A tale of safety for two people standing together in adversity.

They both noticed the way they look at each other in a transformed way.

They both thought the other didn't know.

They both remained quiet.

It couldn't be what they thought it was. It was, after all, simply two friends transferring their conversations from the virtual to reality, right?

Raven and Clarke made their way to their room as Lexa moved to hers. Only then did Clarke and Lexa's hand separated, both women missing the contact immediately.

 _Good night._

 ** _Good night._**

* * *

 _There was blood on the floor. A single red tiny circle on a white floor. It seemed like it would be visible from space. Its color shone brighter than the sun on the longest summer day. It grew bigger as more drops contributed to its expansion. It was all she could see._

 _It came from a wrist on which a single nasty cut ruined the soft skin of its owner. Blood traced lines from where life tried to escape. The wound was deep, more than any other she'd ever had, but not deep enough to kill._

 _It was never meant to kill. It was meant to punish. It was meant to carry guilt until the rest of her life. It was meant to remind her of the way she had been foolish enough to believe life would get better. It was not enough, but she refused to give in and cut again._

 _It hurt, but not nearly as much as the hole in her heart. It was painful. It burned more than she had expected and it would leave a scar, but she didn't care. Scars didn't scare her. She had one permanently engraved in her soul. It would never heal. She needed to see it, but she could not. She had settled to inflict herself a physical one._

 _She would never allow herself to forget. She would forever be marked by the past._

 _It was a kill mark, she had decided. It was kill mark in memory of Costia, the only death she would never forgive the world._

 _She opened the fingers of her opposite hand, and the knife fell to the ground, breaking the silence with a loud bang. It made her flinch in realization of what she had done. She didn't reach for tissue or bandages. She let her blood flow away. She watched as if she was in a trance._

 _One cut. One death. One person responsible._

 _She blamed herself despite knowing very well it wasn't in her control. She hated herself, but she knew she was not the one who needed to be hated. It was beyond her control. The guilt ate her alive. It made her nauseous whenever she thought about it, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. It made her want to dig a hole and bury herself until air ran out. It made her want to yell at the universe that it wasn't her fault, but the words were impossible to produce._

 _She wanted to ask Costia for forgiveness, but Costia could not be reached anymore. It was too late. She would never be forgiven for the one thing that mattered the most. She would have to learn how to survive with the weight of someone's death on her conscience._

 _She would have to learn to forgive herself, to stop the guilt._

 _But whenever she stopped feeling like the worst human being, the memories came back stronger, and she found herself looking at a monster in the mirror._

 _How do you ask someone to stop blaming themselves when it is all they have left? How do you tell them to stop, when it is the only reason they keep waking up in the morning, to blame themselves even more?_

 _Would you remove the only reason they have to wake up?_

 _She was in pain, and the urge to make someone pay for it was too high to be ignore. She had chosen herself as the guilty. She had no one else to accuse._

 _There was not enough blood, but she didn't retrieve the knife._

 _She didn't touch it again._

 _She didn't know how to live, but she didn't know how to die either._

 _She stared at the wound until it stopped bleeding. It took an entire day, and by the time blood coagulated, she felt weaker than she ever had before._

 _She felt strangely alive, for someone who had taken a blade to cut herself a few hours ago. Maybe it was why life and death were so intimately linked: because one could exist if the other did as well._

 _She wondered if it was how it felt when one came closer to death. She would never know, because she chose life._

 _It hurt to live, but not as much as the thought of forgetting Costia in the afterlife did._

 _She left the blood stained on the floor for a week before cleaning it._

* * *

Lexa woke up with a silent scream on her lips, a ghostly dream of a knife falling to the ground in her mind, and her left hand holding her right wrist. She could almost smell fresh blood dripping away. The room was pitch black, and she knew she would not sleep for the rest of the night.

The memory of that night, that moment where sorrows had taken over her body, still flashed through her mind. She wished it never happened, but the thin line on the inside of her wrist proved her wrong.

She had taken the knife. She had sharpened the blade. She had sliced once. It was a single, decisive deep cut.

It had left a mark.

Unlike the dozens superficial other cuts that had long disappeared.

Unlike all the previous ones, this one had stayed.

It wasn't something she was proud of. It wasn't something she liked to talk about. Anya knew of it, no one else did. She had done it once, and never again.

She didn't want more kill marks. One was already too many.

No one wanted them, but not anyone could resist the temptation of transforming their emotional turmoil to physical ones.

She looked at her wrist with empty eyes mirroring the void in her soul. The urge was back. It had been gone a long time, and it was back, stronger, hungrier than ever for her sanity.

It came out of nowhere to slam against her will to never think about this part of her past. It mocked her with ideas of feeling better while attacking her body. It wanted her to believe she would truly feel better if she adopted self-destruction as her lifestyle.

Just one more cut. Just one little more cut. A tiny cut that wouldn't leave any scar, that would remain invisible to the untrained eye. It would not hurt. It would ease the pressure she felt around her heart. It would give her something to focus on. It would give her something concrete, something real to place her pain in.

Just a small cut. It would disappear after, like it was never there in the first time. It would not hurt anyone. It would diminish the anxiety that threatened to send her to hell.

Lexa shivered at the way her twisted ideas transformed to gargantuan cravings.

The urge was back, and she could not focus on anything. She tried to look at the room, memorize details, remember the date. She tried everything she could to turn her attention to something else, but the image of pocket knives haunted her.

She had one in her luggage. She had packed it in case she'd needed it in the wild. It called her. It yelled her name. It wanted to be used. All she'd have to do would be to unlock it and slide it on her skin.

Once.

Twice.

A dozen times.

And perhaps the nightmare would go away.

Perhaps the pain would give her a break.

Perhaps she would breathe a little easier, knowing she had a real reason to hurt now.

Perhaps she would feel guilty for giving in.

Perhaps she would cry.

Perhaps she would pray to fall asleep and wake up to realize everything was only a dream.

It was a strong urge, hard to resist. It came with an army of distorted thoughts, each of them more convincing than the previous one. It took over her entire soul. She didn't remember the pain from the cuts, only the feeling of relief that had followed. She couldn't stand staring at her wrists, clean, soft, untouched beside the only scar.

She couldn't explain this feeling. She just felt overwhelmed by it. If she could just pick up the knife, if she could simply make one cut, she would feel better.

She would feel.

She didn't want to do it, but she felt like if she didn't, she would die. She would rather suffer the pain of a thousand cuts than die. She hated herself for these thoughts.

She stared at her luggage, its attractiveness lighting up the room. She wished she felt strong enough to resist, but a part of her doubted she was, and this part almost always won. She struggled to remain in her bed when all she wanted was to get out of it and reach for the little blade.

It was small, tiny, but it held great power over Lexa's conscience.

She fought the wave of tears that tried to escape her eyes. She would not cry. She would not cut. She would not.

She wanted to. She wanted to despite knowing how terrible it was, how messy this situation was, how inappropriate this behavior was.

It was two in the morning. She could call Anya. It was only eleven in California. Her best friend wouldn't mind, but Lexa feared her reaction to the situation. Anya would be so ashamed of her. Even if Lexa didn't mention it, Anya would know. She had this way of knowing everything about her. They were the closest friends, and Lexa couldn't fathom the idea of inflicting more pain on Anya.

She didn't want Anya to feel sad. She didn't want Anya to bear this burden. She didn't want Anya to feel hopeless.

She didn't want to be alone. The weight of loneliness crushed her, and encouraged her to free her blood from under her skin. It was getting hard for her to breathe, and even harder to remain immobile. She was shaking, and the thousand alarms of distress in her head went off at the same time.

Her trembling hand reached for her phone. She stared at the black screen for an eternity.

She wouldn't depend on anyone. She didn't want to wake up Clarke. The blonde probably had better things to do than always come to Lexa's rescue. She would probably get annoyed by Lexa's late messages.

And more importantly, Lexa would never make Clarke bear the burden of a pain that was hers. She would never tell Clarke about the nights she spent slicing small lines in her flesh. She would never share with Clarke the ways she was haunted by the image of a red liquid pooling on the floor, because she knew the artist would cry for her, and Lexa didn't want to see sadness in those bluest skies.

 _I can't sleep._

The message was sent before Lexa could find the force to keep it. She held her device to her heart as she calmed herself, slowly but surely.

There was no answer.

Lexa sighed pathetically at herself. Of course, Clarke would be sleeping. She couldn't expect the blonde to be awake at all time of the day and night just because she wanted to talk to her. She wouldn't expect it either. She would never ask for such behavior from any of her friends. She would not be selfish.

It was not Clarke's job to take care of her.

She took a deep breath and rolled in her bed so she could face the window. The illuminated street lamps reflected like fireflies in the darkness, and the calm of the night helped her chase her worries away.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She found the strength to remove her covers and walked to the door. When she looked through the tiny peephole, she smiled.

"Clarke."

The name echoed in the room and in Lexa's soul.

The blonde woman smiled back. Her eyes were still foggy from the sleep and her hair was a mess, but she was still impossibly beautiful to Lexa. She walked in and crashed into the bed.

"I couldn't sleep either."

It was a blatant lie, and both women knew it.

Clarke had been deep in the land of dreams when she had heard the distant sound of her phone buzzing. Unlike Raven, Clarke always knew when her phone rang. She had developed the art of waking up almost immediately when she heard it, no matter how late it was and how tired she was. She had received too many bad news at night to ignore her ringtone anymore.

When she had read Lexa's message, she knew, almost like she was Lexa herself, that something was wrong.

Maybe it was because of the way she read the message in her head, the way her little internal voice sounded extremely melancholic while it decoded the words. The way she had read it with a mind that wasn't really aware of the world yet, just like Lexa had written those words without really being herself.

Maybe it was because Clarke felt like she had known Lexa since the creation of the universe, and the woman held no secret to her.

Maybe it was because none of their late night conversations had ever started this way, and the different alerted her of something.

Maybe Clarke enjoyed rationalizing her thoughts, when in reality, the truth was much simpler.

She missed Lexa's presence and she wanted to be with her.

They both laid in the giant bed, side by side, barely touching each other and only listening to the other breathing. It eased Lexa's tortured soul and brought Clarke to a peace of mind she thought unreachable.

The call of the knife passed, and Lexa felt like she was coming back to life.

"Is everything okay?"

Clarke's whisper was practically inaudible, but the sound of her voice almost made Lexa cry.

The woman with the secret scar could have cried at the way Clarke's worried tone conveyed every different ways Clarke _cared_. Clarke cared about her.

Clarke cared about her enough to walk to her room at almost three in the morning. She cared about her enough to fight sleep and stay awake to make sure Lexa was not going to fall apart alone. She cared about her enough to ask, to listen, to respect her limits.

She cared enough to show it.

"Yes."

Because you are here.

It didn't feel like a lie. Lexa knew everything would be okay.

Her hand reached Clarke's, and Lexa squeezed it lightly as a quiet thank you.

Clarke suddenly understood why she was so terrified at the idea of meeting Lexa in real life.

Meeting Lexa meant bringing a virtual bond to a tangible one. One that could, would, develop to so much more than simple text messages. It wasn't a mere possibility in Clarke's mind, it was a certainty. It could destroy them. It could be the death of them. Or it could be the complete opposite.

It could ruin their complicity, or a greater one could be born.

The way her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest confirmed her suspicions.

Lexa was strikingly beautiful.

Lexa was incredibly smart.

Lexa was breathtakingly human.

She was the perfection that completed Clarke's flaws.

And Clarke couldn't look away anymore. She snuggled in Lexa's arms and closed her eyes. She buried herself in Lexa's gentle touches. She felt like Lexa was her personal heaven.

Clarke felt like she hadn't been called by Lexa a few minutes earlier. She felt like they both had called each other, like they both wanted to be together.

Clarke sighed deeply, inhaling Lexa's sweet scent. She was convinced they could stay like this until forever. She wouldn't mind.

She couldn't stop herself from giving Lexa's neck the softest, most delicate kiss. Her lips barely touched Lexa's skin, but both women shivered and stopped moving, afraid of interrupting the moment.

"I feel safe with you."

Lexa's barely audible confession broke the silence one final time before they both fell asleep.

* * *

 **Author note:**

 **The events described in Montreal are actually 100% real. I've been caught in some epic walks a few years ago.**

 **I just had to include my own city in this story.**

 **Stay safe you all xo**


	6. Hurt

**I apologize for the small delay. I got some things to take care of and it's been very stressful, and I recently got time to write again.**

 **This chapter is a direct continuation of the last scene of chap 5, which was Lexa dealing with self-harm issues and Clarke joining her during the night.**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa via twitter for proofreading.**

 **Locations: Montreal**

 _Italic_ **:** _Lexa to Clarke_

 ** _Bold Italic_ : Clarke to Lexa**

* * *

 **Hurt**

Lexa didn't sleep much.

She woke up before the sun was up and her eyes settled on the silhouette breathing in and out peacefully. She smiled lightly at the way Clarke's face was hidden by her messy blond hair. Clarke was beautiful and Lexa found herself feeling safer right now than she had been in years. She hadn't woken up with Costia in her mind for the first time in months, and she had forgotten how amazing it was to open her eyes and see the world without sadness.

Lexa didn't want to wake up alone anymore.

She felt tempted to look at the way Clarke slept for the rest of her life and that thought made her swallow the lump in her throat. She glanced quickly around and noticed it was still dark outside. It was completely silent. It was one of those moments when she felt time had stopped moving to allow her to breathe, finally. Her eyes came back to the sleeping figure by her side.

She felt better when someone was there. That someone was Clarke.

She just felt it.

She closed her eyes, but didn't fall back to the land of Morpheus. She was still processing yesterday. She was still processing the way Clarke had entered her life a few hours ago. She was still processing the way her heartbeat had changed its pace. She was still processing the fact that even facing each other in real life, they shared the same 'I've known you all my life' feeling.

She was still processing the way they had fallen asleep with their hands holding one another, and the way even sleep hadn't separated them.

It was tricky, meeting someone in real life. It tripled the risks of having them see her, really see her for everything she was. Clarke could see her flaws, her wounds, her scars. Clarke could notice the little ways Lexa was surviving more than living in this world. Clarke could decide she didn't like this version of Lexa, the shattered one. She could decide the virtual persona of Lexa was better than the real life Lexa.

But none of this had happened. Lexa could see in Clarke's eyes that the blonde was not one to judge another so quickly.

She could see the subtle ways Clarke needed to fight to keep living as well. She had realized, the minute her eyes met Clarke's, that they were both much more alike than they had thought at first. It could be a curse or a blessing, and Lexa had opted for the last option.

She was sure of one thing: she didn't want to hurt Clarke.

Not today, not ever. She thought Clarke already had enough on her shoulders. Lexa wanted to protect her from whatever haunted her. She wanted to hunt the monster chasing Clarke's soul. She wanted to take down this invincible enemy just to see Clarke's smile.

She had never seen anything more beautiful than the way Clarke smiled.

The thought made her shiver as Costia's smile appeared in her mind.

Was it possible to cheat on a dead person? Lexa felt like she was betraying her past lover just by holding someone else's hand. She felt like a terrible person for looking at Clarke the way she used to look at Costia. She felt like she was being unfair to Clarke, to Costia, to herself. She broke hearts she didn't even know she could break. She had been so deeply in love with Costia that the mere thought of ever looking at someone else the same way seemed unbearable.

This kind of love was meant to happen once in a lifetime. If it happened twice, Lexa feared it would lessen its importance, its meaning. It wouldn't sound as magical as it once was.

Before she had time to think further about this matter, she heard the faint rustle of the cover being moved. She turned her head just in time to catch Clarke jolted out of sleep, fear and anxiety twirling in her eyes.

"It's okay. You're safe."

Lexa's soft voice calmed the hurricane in Clarke's irises and brought her back to the shore. She didn't know what had woken the blonde up, but she had no doubt it must have been terrible. She had no trouble recognizing the familiar sight of someone suffering from recurrent nightmares.

It was a shame that the most terrible thoughts showed themselves during a period that was meant for rest and for feeling at ease.

A car's door slammed outside and the blonde flinched violently, finding refuge in Lexa's strong arms for a moment. She was shaking like she was prone to a panic attack, and Lexa knew it was a risk she couldn't neglect.

"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered in the dark.

It took a few minutes of Lexa silently comforting Clarke for the blonde to be able to breathe again on her own. She remained in Lexa's arms, as if the taller woman was the road to safety.

"He's always in my dreams."

It was a small confession, one that didn't mean anything in particular, but Lexa understood it without even asking for more information. She recognized it in Clarke's shaking voice, in the way her words seemed to convey a dozen years of suffering, in the way her eyes were not quite focused on the present. She recognized it in the way Clarke spoke with the tone of someone who wished they didn't have to say such words.

It was a confession from someone who had been forced to face death. It reminded Lexa of herself, of her own voice, whenever she had to talk about Costia.

It was the words Lexa would have never heard if they had not met. The missing pieces of the puzzle that made Clarke the person she was. The hidden pieces. The guarded pieces. The most important ones. It was Clarke's history, raw and pure, without any inhibition.

"He's always in my dreams, but he remains gone."

Lexa felt the pain in her heart, as if it was hers as well. She looked down at Clarke, whose face remained carefully hidden in Lexa's shirt.

"He's been gone for years and I can't accept it. He was driving my car, you know? It was mine and I killed them both. I should have known. I should have."

The artist was speaking to no one in particular. She spoke because she had to let the pressure out, unable to keep it inside. She spoke because she had to let this out, had to let her secrets out, if she didn't want to explode.

Lexa thought it was better to speak than to pick a knife.

"Everyone thinks my life is perfect. I have good grades. I laugh. I show emotions. I talk. I volunteer when I want to. I contribute to society the way I can. Hell, I'm white, blonde, American. They think they get it. They think they can see me. They think they know me. They think I'm happy. I have a future. But Wells and Finn, they don't."

Lexa knew this feeling and she wished Clarke didn't. She wished she could protect Clarke from this burden. It was a hard one to bear. She didn't know the details, had no idea who Finn was, but Wells' name resonated in her mind long after it was pronounced.

The memory of a small piece of paper on the High Line flooded her mind. She could fill the blanks with a couple theories, all of them going back to the central aspect of guilt.

Whoever Wells was, whoever Finn was, Clarke felt responsible for their deaths.

It was a weight she knew Clarke would have to live with all her life.

"How is it fair that it's my fault, but that they're the one who suffered the consequences?"

Clarke didn't say anything else, as if she had realized where she was and who was beside her. She kept her mouth shut, but Lexa could see her struggles against the need to open up. She could see the way Clarke's mouth was closed by force rather than by choice.

Clarke was not ready yet to disclose what she considered to be her deepest sins.

How did one live without knowing if they deserved forgiveness or not?

How did one live without knowing if they would ever be able to move on?

These uncertainties and ambiguities crushed Clarke's soul a little more everyday.

Lexa waited for the worst to be over and opened her mouth too. She didn't know who 'he' was, and she didn't ask for any identification. Clarke had the right to choose what she wanted to keep to herself. Lexa didn't know what demons lived in Clarke's mind, but she could ease their blow by sharing hers.

"I lost someone special to me too. Her name was Costia."

Lexa took a deep breath. Clarke's eyes were turned to her, piercing holes into her thickest armor.

The name Costia echoed in the room like an anthem.

"She died about two years ago. She suffered from coronary heart disease all her life. She made it through the surgery that was supposed to give her back a normal life, but didn't survive the infection that followed."

She gave Clarke a few seconds to ask a question, but it never came. She knew, however, that she had the entire attention of her friend.

"I lost a part of myself when she left."

It didn't take much for Clarke to realize what Lexa meant by someone special.

"He was my best friend," she clarified.

"She was my everything," Lexa revealed.

There was no accusative tone. No hidden message of 'I have it worse than you', because both women knew the burden of death affected everyone just as much, regardless of the relationship shared by its victims. Lexa simply wanted to share her story. She wanted Clarke to know talking about the tragedy, sharing it with the world, did not lessen its importance. She wanted Clarke to know that talking about it wouldn't stop the pain, but it could help.

She wanted Clarke to know that being alive, being human, meant they could not escape the pain. And perhaps it was that inability to escape that made them invincible. Always facing the greatest fears, the greatest pains, the most horrific battles, one had no choice but to adapt, to aim higher, to survive.

Whenever Clarke would want to share her story, Lexa would be there.

Clarke's head found a place on Lexa's shoulder, and the two of them leaned back on their pillows, half sitting and lying in bed.

"I left home," Lexa admitted. "I left home because I could not walk the same streets and remain the same person I used to be. They hold too many memories and I hold too much sorrow to find in myself the strength to appreciate them. It's because of that part I lost, I can't find it back. I'm searching for it. I've embarked in a quest for a new home."

Clarke nodded slowly. She understood Lexa's words. The woman was on a journey, probably longer than Clarke and Raven's, looking for a place to belong again. Unlike Clarke, Lexa probably didn't fear the moment she would be back in her little hometown.

Because Lexa had no intention of going back, and that thought made the blonde's heart hurt a little more. She heard Lexa loud and clear. No one would stop her until she wanted to be stopped.

Not even Clarke.

Clarke felt her thoughts making a mess in her head, but she could distinguish one aspect she wanted to tell Lexa. It was probably not the best way to comfort Lexa, but it was a try.

"You didn't lose that part of you just because of her death."

Lexa frowned at Clarke's solid tone, contrasting with the fragile one they had been using so far.

"You didn't lose a part of you. That missing part, it's the one you offered her willingly. You gave it to her to feed those days of happiness. You gave it to her to fight against her illness and she didn't give it back. The dead are selfish. They take and claim and steal parts of ourselves, and they don't give them back. She kept that part you think is missing. She brought it with her wherever she went, because she wanted to keep a part of you to never forget you. It's not fair that only the livings keep everything, you know? It's the most precious present you could have ever given her."

Lexa nodded, the words slowly revealing their message to her. She wondered when Clarke had mastered the art of poetry. She wondered if Clarke's words could heal the world.

She had no doubt they could.

"She probably wanted a part of your awesomeness," Clarke gently nudged Lexa's shoulder with her head.

It made little sense, but it made Lexa's heart heal a little more.

"When Wells died, I thought the world was ending. Then Finn died, I thought I was responsible for Raven's world ending. We loved them so much. It might not have been the same kind of love you had for her, but it was still love."

Lexa's eyes got lost in Costia's memories. She could still feel the softness of her hands exploring every inch of her body, her lips travelling those same invisible lines.

"Doesn't it make you feel better to know that this kind of sadness from losing someone so close to you, this excruciating pain you're dealing with, will never be known to her?"

Lexa squeezed Clarke's hand.

"That feeling, the despair, the suffocation, she will never know it. Even if she's gone, you still protect her from this madness. I think it's that thought that made me survive all these months."

Lexa found refuge in those words as well. They sounded good. They sounded positive. They twisted the horror of death to a tale of love.

"We bear this pain so they don't have to," Clarke murmured. "We bear this pain because we love them and we would never want them to feel the way we do right now."

Silence became the king again. They both listened to the breathing sounds made by the other. The air was filled with their respective burden, filled with stories they could only share by being face to face. No amount of texting could have ever conveyed as much as this simple conversation before the sun elevated itself high into the sky.

"I'm glad you're here," Clarke sighed softly.

"You're not alone."

The last minutes of the night buried them in sleep, sealing their secrets away.

* * *

Raven woke up just a little past seven. She yawned loudly and reached for her phone, quickly checking if she had any missed calls. She closed her eyes again and breathed in the stillness of the room. There were no sounds to disturb her from falling back asleep. The silence cradled her to sleep. She almost crossed the line between awareness and unconsciousness when she realized her mistake.

The perfect absence of sound.

She opened one eye and peeked at Clarke's bed. The covers were folded neatly and there was no trace of the blonde woman anywhere. It seemed as if Clarke had never been there. Not being fully awake, Raven thought for a millisecond she was back in California, in her bed. She groaned, forcing herself to sit.

There was one simple answer to explain this mysterious disappearance.

She tiptoed to Lexa's room. The door was locked, of course, and she carefully leaned against it, trying to hear anything coming from the inside. She winced when the floor creaked under her steps. She held her breath just long enough to listen.

Someone laughed inside the room.

Raven stepped back, not daring disturb the sanctuary that had become this simple hotel room. It sounded an awful lot like Clarke's laugh, but something was different about it. It sounded clearer, harder, purer. It sounded like a real laugh, one that wasn't half altered by the presence of the wounds of the past.

Raven smiled all the way back to her room.

Clarke came back barely twenty minutes later. She threw the cover of her bed everywhere to make it seem like she had just woken up. She crashed in Raven's bed. Raven pretended to be mad at the brutal wake-up call. She pretended to know nothing about Clarke's secret visit to her new friend.

She pretended not to notice the way Clarke's eyes were marked by fatigue.

By happiness.

* * *

Their flight was scheduled at four thirty in the afternoon. Considering they had to be at the airport around two in the afternoon, Clarke and Raven had plenty of time left to spend the morning quickly visiting the city. They dragged a confused Lexa along and even convinced the poor woman to accompany them to the airport after lunch.

Lexa had left her luggage at the hotel. She would be able to come back for it later before heading back to Toronto. As the perfect gentlewoman, she carried one of Clarke's bags rather than remaining empty handed. She didn't notice the mocking look Raven threw at her.

Lexa found herself appreciating Montreal in daylight much more than at night.

Because Clarke's face wasn't wearing a mask of nervousness.

They walked on Mont-Royal avenue, taking pictures at the crowd of hipsters around the metro station. The area of Le Plateau Mont-Royal was well known for its relaxed atmosphere, its many innovative coffee houses and its various independent stores. Just like the downtown area, it never quite slept, for its bars were always full until the early hours of the morning.

Lexa tried her best to avoid glancing at Clarke too many times and whenever she did, she found herself drowning in the most beautiful ocean she had ever seen. Clarke, on the opposite, didn't even try to hide the way she couldn't resist the urge to stare at Lexa. The quiet confessions of the previous night still cast their shadows on the blonde. She felt like they brought them closer.

She knew they brought them closer.

She felt grateful that she had been allowed to witness Lexa's vulnerability. It displayed the woman next to her as more than the faceless person she was through their messaging application. It made her even more gorgeous. It made her real.

Clarke quickly wondered if beauty, true beauty, could only be appreciated once flaws were exposed to the world.

They walked a few minutes and stopped at L'Entrepôt, a restaurant serving meals of all kinds, cocktails and beer. Everything was the same price, five dollars, which was very cheap for the high quality and quantity of the plates.

The design of the place was exactly what was expected from a place in this district. Old style wooden tables, fake leather seats and old pipes were used to give the place a rustic look, which was completed by a brick wall to the right and a cabin-like wall to the left. A few high definition televisions shared images of natural wonders. To their far left was the bar along with the wide selection of bottles. Clarke was fascinated by skateboards and snowboards hung on the walls and ceiling to decorate the place.

It looked like the kind of a place a group of friends would end their night after a long day spent conquering the snowy mountains.

They were welcomed by a waitress who couldn't have been older than them. She wore leggings and a grey tank top that was twice her size, along with a backwards snapback to complete the urban look. They were far from the classy restaurants. This was the place where college students and young adults came to relax around a few drinks, and they immediately felt like part of the community.

" _Bonjour, est-ce qu'on peut vous offrir quelque chose à boire?_ _Êtes-vous prêtes à commander?"_ the waitress asked with a pad in her hand.

Lexa quickly ordered three iced teas and translated the questions to the other two women.

Raven made a fool of herself as she tried to order her simple quesadillas plate with a mini poutine serving, with a terrible French accent.

Clarke made a fool of herself as she tried to explain she wanted the braised beef burger, but without the horseradish butter, and with a side of sweet potato fries.

Lexa threw them an amused look and ordered her penne à la vodka with sun-dried tomato pesto in perfect French.

The waitress laughed and waited until everything was written before throwing them a teasing look.

"If there's anything, just give me a sign, I speak English as well. Like most people here."

She walked away just in time to miss Raven throwing her a look of disbelief.

"She did it on purpose, I'm telling you. We carry oversized bags, how did she not guess we were tourists?" Raven groaned.

They waited for their meals to arrive. Lexa was sitting next to Clarke, who was facing Raven. It allowed the blonde's hand to casually brush against Lexa's, as if it was involuntary.

At least, the first time it seemed like an accident. Clarke even added a "sorry" to make sure Lexa wasn't suddenly taken off guard.

The next ten times weren't accidental and Clarke stopped apologizing for something she wasn't even sorry for. Lexa didn't protest.

After a dozen times, Clarke stopped pretending and kept Lexa's hand in hers.

Clarke only removed it when their meals arrived and she needed her two hands to eat. Lexa hid the disappointment away from the other women's eyes.

Lexa missed the contact.

They ate as Raven spoke about how excited she was about this random detour and Clarke couldn't agree more. It was true. They had added another city to their list, a completely different one from Toronto. They kept hearing everyone speak French around them and it made them feel like they were in Paris already, minus the accent. They only realized now how not ready they were to face Paris, but it made them even more motivated to keep going. Losing themselves in new universes would most certainly keep their minds off of their own damaged worlds.

Plus, it was this mishap that was responsible for Clarke finally meeting Lexa. The blonde didn't regret it one second. She even found it funny how it was her late night conversation with Lexa that had lead to their first meeting. Had she not spent the night chatting with Lexa, she wouldn't have slept in and would already be in Europe by now.

It was crazy, all the little things she noticed when Lexa was in front of her.

The hardly noticeable way Lexa frowned when she read specific parts of the menu told Clarke about what the woman liked more.

Her relaxed posture, leaned back on the seat, told Clarke that she felt better than the previous night, that she felt safer.

The way she picked her fork, slowly took the time to savor the taste of her meal, hinted Clarke on what spices the woman liked better.

Hey eyes lightening up whenever Raven made a somewhat bad joke told Clarke that Lexa must have a hidden sense of humor under that stoic mask.

The way Lexa's voice softened whenever certain topics were explored made Clarke understand which ones were her favorites and which ones to avoid.

The way she gestured when she gave her opinions on some things made Clarke see how passionate this woman could be about the subjects she enjoyed.

The subtle way Lexa seemed to memorize everything Clarke said, everything Clarke did, told the blonde that maybe, just maybe, the green eyed woman cared more than she pretended.

The way her name sounded when Lexa said it made Clarke believe that no one would ever give it as much glory as Lexa did.

Everything about Lexa screamed that the woman was happy, that she did not regret accompanying them here at all.

Every little thing that made Lexa the person she was right now, Clarke noticed it and loved each one of them.

 _ **I'm so glad you're here with us.**_

Lexa didn't even answer. Her eyes conveyed everything.

They left the restaurant with full stomachs and headed to the right. They had eaten unexpectedly early and there was one thing Clarke wanted to see before going to the airport.

The Mount Royal, a giant hill classified as an extinct volcano, dominated the town of Montreal. The small mountain had inspired the name of the popular city and was now an excellent observatory and hiking point. Built on its top was a giant metallic cross that illuminated the night. It came from the past when the metropolis citizens worshipped the same God, the same religion, the same rituals. Beliefs had changed, but the cross remained an important heritage.

It was the home of many celebrations, hikers and tourists. It held in its heart many observatories, but also served as a house for a large cemetery, a part of the Montreal University and the Saint Joseph's Oratory.

They walked the distance between L'Entrepôt and the bottom of the hill, only making a short stop for Lexa to snap a picture of whatever poem was written on a giant board for the poetry's festival that was going on. _Le vaisseau d'or_ , by Emile Nelligan.

Clarke didn't fail to notice the way Lexa beamed at the sight of the trees decorating the hill.

She made a mental note, while remembering their conversation about trees and skies. She smiled fondly at the memory. It was one of many that she wished she'd never forget.

Scratch that.

Clarke wanted to remember every single word that had been exchanged over the past weeks.

The Mount Royal was not only a small mountain. It was also an enormous park and they could hear music in the distance. They passed in front of the Cartier monument and noticed a few people playing drums. They sat on the lawn and listened to the music as the crowd did the same. It was a popular event, they learned from Google.

Every Sunday, the circle of drummers gathered and various artists joined them in making the place a festive one. Despite the presence of cops in every hidden corner of the park, people hanged out freely, surrounded by their friends. They celebrated with alcohol flooding their veins and cannabis smoke filling their lungs. Mount Royal's lowest parts were always surrounded by a faint smell of cannabis, whether it was Sunday or not.

It was a drastic opposite from the 50s, when Sundays were mostly spent at church.

Lexa had to dismiss many asking if they sought to buy this recreational drug. They were about to go to the airport. They couldn't risk it. But they had an incredible amount of fun, interacting with intoxicated people.

"One day, I'll get on top of the hill, but today is not that day." Clarke declared as she let her bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

She had underestimated the distance between the restaurant and the Cartier monument and her shoulders were painfully reminding her of her mistake.

"Have you ever been on top of a mountain?" Lexa asked curiously.

"Never actually. I'm not really a fan of climbing."

Lexa nodded. She thought it was a shame though, for Clarke's eyes to hold the sky in captivity, but for the blonde to ignore how precious the sight of the firmament truly could be.

"Someday, I'll teach you to appreciate them. They can cure any illness that affects your mind."

It sounded like a promise in reference to their late conversations, and Clarke really wished it would happen. The imminent departure hour was approaching quickly and the artist had a strong the feeling of not wanting it to occur.

"You'd perform a miracle," Raven said. "I've been trying to get Clarke to enjoy hiking since forever. All she wants to do is draw and paint and marry her furniture."

"Interesting wedding," Lexa said at a flustered Clarke.

It didn't take long for the trio to feel at ease and lay down comfortably, their eyes turned to the sky while their ears listened to the music and to each other's words.

"This feels good," Clarke whispered.

'Because you are here', remained unsaid.

'Because I'm with you' remained implicit.

'Let this moment never stop' remained silent.

Everything about this moment made her feel like she was in heaven.

They stayed there, doing nothing but watching the clouds pass, for enough time for their troubled minds to enjoy the break. It lasted until Raven picked up her ringing phone and walked away to give Octavia some news of their journey.

The young mechanic student threw Clarke a knowing smile as she answered the phone, and her voice reached them as the distance grew between them.

"Hey, O! You will never guess where we ended up."

The blonde rolled her eyes at her best friend's behavior. Raven acted like Clarke would jump on top of Lexa as soon as they would be alone and this was ridiculous.

"Clarke got a new friend. If you know what I mean."

Not long after Raven's temporary departure, Clarke sat and retried her pad from her bag. She immediately started tracing the outline of the Cartier monument, adding just the right amount of shadows in the drawing to make it look real.

Lexa noticed the blonde adding spaces and dots in the outlines. She saw a small message being written again, but didn't mention anything to her friend. If Clarke didn't mention it herself, Lexa would not betray the silence. Whatever reason pushed Clarke to do this, Lexa would respect it.

"Beautiful."

It was a gorgeous drawing, once again, and Lexa voiced her thoughts, without really knowing if she was talking about the piece of art or the artist herself.

She didn't insist when Clarke hid her drawing for the last minutes it took her to finish it. The artist traced a few more lines, applied pressure on all the right places to create the perfect image.

Clarke could only smile at Lexa's voice. She kept her blue eyes on the piece of paper as she answered:

"You are."

She handed the drawing to Lexa and the woman gasped. She was in the drawing. Clarke had drawn her sitting in the stairs of the Cartier monument, alone, her head turned to a horizon made of trees of all sizes. Her hair was flowing to an invisible breeze and the tiny smile on her lips conveyed a feeling of peace.

The lines and subtle spaces between some of them traced a hidden message that Lexa had no difficulty to decipher. It made her chest slightly ache and she was unable to find the exact cause of this constricted feeling.

 **This is not goodbye.**

Only then did Lexa notice the faint, almost invisible shadow of a plane hidden behind the tree tops. The woman became violently aware of the proximity of their separation.

One hour. That was how long they had left together. In fifteen minutes, they would head downtown and take a cab to the airport. In thirty minutes, they would be on the highway, driving at high speed to their destination. In one hour, Clarke and Raven would go through the Canadian customs and Lexa would remain behind.

But Clarke was right. This wasn't goodbye. If only Lexa could tell Clarke she knew about the secret code, perhaps they could find a way to make their departures less painful for the both of them.

"I love it," Lexa said. "Your talent knows no limits."

Clarke's bright smile competed with the sun.

"It's because I have the best model. Keep it. A souvenir until next time."

Lexa nodded. She wouldn't let it go for anything. She memorized it as much as she could before she turned her eyes to Clarke.

"I leave drawings everywhere I go," Clarke said. "I don't know, I just want to leave a trace, you know? When we come back, I'll leave it on top of the hill. Until then, you hold on to it."

 _When_ we come back. The words found their home in Lexa's heart. It wasn't _if_ , it was _when._ They would come back. They would meet again. Even if it took them months, even if it had to be because of a complete change of plans again, they would meet again.

When they came back, Lexa hoped she would be able to hold Clarke's hand without having to pretend it meant nothing.

When they came back, Lexa hoped she would be able to do so much more than just hold Clarke's hand.

It surprised her to think this way, and yet, she welcomed the thought.

"I found your drawing on the High Line," Lexa admitted. "It was well hidden."

She didn't mention the message. The previous night had hinted her enough on who Wells was, and she didn't want to ask more of what Clarke was willing to disclose.

"I hoped you would. I wanted you to know I wasn't a pre-programmed robot," Clarke teased.

"I knew you weren't. I had this feeling. I trusted you."

"The same goes for you."

They trusted each other without even knowing why, and maybe this was what made their relationship different than all their previous ones. Maybe it was the main reason why it didn't feel like a goodbye.

"About last night…," Lexa started.

"Thank you for being here."

"I didn't do anything."

"You did. You did so much."

It was all it took for Lexa to swallow her pride and open up. Clarke's voice was louder than the noise that surrounded them, but still quieter than the echoes of her heartbeat.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

The sound of drums disappeared behind them. They locked themselves in a bubble of privacy, where no sound and no one could disturb them. They zoned out of the city to zoom in one another's presence.

"Come with us. We'd have no trouble adding you to our team."

It was said with a light tone, almost as a joke, but the blonde wished she could say it seriously. She wished she could truly ask Lexa something as huge as this and expect a positive answer. It meant so much more.

Come with us.

Come with me.

Be with us.

Be with me.

Clarke wanted to shove those words back into her throat the moment they came out. She couldn't just ask Lexa to come with them without even speaking to Raven. Speaking of Raven, Clarke would have given anything to have her best friend back to their side now. She knew how to get rid of such tension. Clarke didn't.

The silence that followed grew heavier as more seconds passed.

Clarke cursed herself for breaking the comfortable atmosphere. It had been replaced by one of awkwardness. It was made of moments of silence from the previous night, the sneaking glances they had thrown one another over the past day, the innuendos that seemed to hide behind every one of their words.

It was made of everything they thought about each other but never said.

"I can't."

Clarke immediately nodded. Of course, Lexa couldn't. Europe was expensive. Clarke knew nothing about Lexa's situation, nothing about her reasons for travelling. They weren't close enough for the brunette to suddenly change her plans just because Clarke asked her to.

All Lexa knew was that it was related to Wells and Finn's death.

"I want to, but I can't," Lexa clarified.

She wanted to.

She wanted to go with Clarke so much. She was dying to go with Clarke. The day and half that she had spent with Clarke and Raven had taught her more about herself than the previous weeks had. She wanted to follow Clarke so much that it hurt. And it was precisely the reason why she couldn't.

Because during that single day, she had learned that she could still fall in love, that she could fall for Clarke if she wasn't careful enough.

Did she want to fall for Clarke? She didn't know yet, but the simple possibility terrified her.

She couldn't change her plans because Clarke asked her to. She couldn't change her plan just for that reason. It wasn't enough. Lexa knew it wasn't enough. If she ever had to change the course of her journey, it had to be because she wanted to, not because she was blinded by someone's company.

And right now, Clarke's presence shone like the brightest star in the whole universe, blinding her to the point of no return. Lexa needed to go her own way if she wanted to avoid being burned entirely.

She was scared Clarke would consider her weak. She feared Clarke would think she was needy for following them across the world after a single day spent together. They had barely met. She dismissed the thought that questioned the validity of this argument: was it really their first meeting if it felt like they had known each other their entire life?

It a world where Facebook likes were considered flirting, where dates could be found in online catalogues, where winking smileys had a double meaning, where a thousand ways to qualify a 'flirtationship' existed, where 'official' dating inspired fear and where stupid rules about dating were invented every two seconds, it would have been easy for Lexa to blame something else for her inability to accept Clarke's proposal.

She could have blamed the social norms that required her to not seem too needy, that expected her to feel detached toward whomever interested her, that asked her to act nonchalant whenever she wanted to move closer to Clarke. She could have blamed the judgement of others, the way a future relationship between the two of them would not be welcomed by many others. She could have blamed the past, Costia's ghost. She could have blamed the way she met Clarke, the internet, the virtual empire that had allowed them to meet by some kind of miracle.

She blamed herself instead. She simply wouldn't follow Clarke because she couldn't allow herself to.

It wasn't a question of money. She didn't mind spending every penny to follow Clarke.

But it wasn't right for her to let her impulsivity dictate her decisions, to let her heart lead the way. She couldn't make the mistake of following Clarke, only to regret it later when she would fall and Clarke wouldn't feel the same. She didn't want to fall in love again.

She didn't want to fall and forget Costia. Her old lover still held a part of her heart, and Lexa would rather die than give it to someone else.

She didn't want to fall when the future was so blurred, when she had no idea where the finish line was. She wouldn't ask Clarke to wait for her, to go with her around the world in search for a new home. She wouldn't be selfish.

She didn't want to fall and have her feelings reciprocated because she feared to hurt Clarke.

She didn't want to hurt Clarke.

She would go her own way because it was the right thing to do, the best thing to do.

"No, of course," Clarke said. "I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate of me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Clarke held Lexa's hand and gave it a light squeeze.

A moment passed. It felt like a dozen years later.

"Clarke?"

Whenever Lexa said Clarke's name, it sounded like a promise for a better outcome.

"I'm glad you asked," Lexa murmured.

Please, ask again.

Tomorrow or next week.

In a minute or in two thousand years.

Someday.

Ask me again.

So I can change my answer.

Clarke would repeat this question a hundred times if she could.

They remained in this position, hands linked together, until Raven skipped back toward them, a slight frown in her face. With years of practice, Clarke knew better than to ask Raven what was wrong. She would wait until Lexa was not here to dig under Raven's armor.

"We should go," Raven declared when she joined them. "Octavia says hi. You should talk to her soon, C, she's running out of things to tell your mother."

Clarke nodded slowly.

She had noticed the new way her best friend seemed attentive to Lexa's every move, as if the friendly switch had been turn off.

* * *

It was a modest airport, large enough to welcome flights from all around the world. It was the home of many fights, tears, smiles, heartbreaks and warm embraces.

It was the end of their first meeting and Clarke had to hold back some rebelious tears that threatened to ruin her composed expression. She fought back the urge to jump at Lexa's neck to embrace the other woman one last time. She had enough trouble breathing already, she didn't want to suffer from another panic attack.

She had not expected the avalanche of sadness to bury her alive. She had underestimated how hard it would be to leave Lexa, even if she had written earlier that it wasn't a goodbye.

Sure, it wasn't a goodbye.

It felt an awful lot like a farewell.

It had taken a single meeting, a single day, for Clarke to realize how wrong she had been about online meetings. It had taken a single night for Clarke to understand how complex relationships were, no matter if they involved friendship or more. It had taken a single conversation for Clarke to become conscious of her feelings toward Lexa.

It wasn't friendship.

Clarke didn't know what label she could stamp on them, but she knew for a fact that it wasn't friendship. It was an unquestionable fact in her mind, an evidence proven by hard facts.

It was more than friendship.

But she would never tell Lexa. Not when both women had no idea when their next meeting would be, not when it could be in the next week or in fifty years. Clarke would never put this kind of pressure on Lexa's head. She would never ask for more, never risk ruining their friendship for something she wasn't sure of.

"I will message you when we land," the blonde said instead of all the things she wanted to scream.

"I'll be waiting. I'll make a stop in Toronto. Then I'm going to the Rockies to see how Canadian camping is. I'll try my best to answer."

I will answer.

I will drop everything just to answer you.

The thought of not being able to reach Lexa made Clarke nauseous. She felt sick thinking about it. Just a few days ago, she had been freaking out about two days of silence. This time, she didn't know how long it would take. She wouldn't know where Lexa would be. She wouldn't know what Lexa would be up to.

She wouldn't know if Lexa was safe.

Clarke felt her throat fill with unsaid emotions. It hurt.

It hurt more than when she had left her hometown. It hurt more than the last view of her mother, standing on the other side of the customs lines when she had left California. It hurt more than hearing her father's voice advising her on things to be careful about during her journey.

It hurt like she was leaving a lover behind, a lover she didn't even know she had.

It suffocated her alive. Clarke wished she didn't have to leave.

But she was on a mission too. She was on the healing path too. She had shared things with Lexa in the stillness of the night, events that still tortured her mind. She still had to free herself before she could welcome Lexa in her life the way she wanted to.

Just like Lexa, Clarke couldn't slow down either, couldn't allow herself to join Lexa in the wildness of the West coast.

"This isn't goodbye," Clarke told Lexa.

I will never say goodbye to you.

Lexa nodded. She would never disagree with this statement.

"You can contact me anytime."

Please, do it. Contact me anytime. Talk to me. Do not forget me.

And Clarke meant it. Anytime of the day or night, in the middle of the busiest times, she would answer Lexa's messages. Sure, Clarke slept like a log and didn't wake up when her phone rang in the middle of the night unless she was in a particularly stressed time in her life, but she would answer as fast as possible. She would swim back to the continent if needed.

"I'm so happy I had the chance to meet you. I'm the luckiest person right now," Clarke said with a sad smile.

"You're not the luckiest person. I am," Lexa protested.

"Have you seen you?" Clarke asked in disbelief.

"I shall offer you a mirror when we see each other again."

"Smartass."

They had decided to keep using text messages rather than voicemails.

Lexa claimed it would be easier than making a phone call. Truth was, if she called Clarke, she didn't think she'd be able to speak as freely as she wished to if she had to say the words out loud.

Clarke claimed it would be faster to write than speak. Truth was, she didn't think she'd be able to say a single sentence out loud if she had to wait until her emotions were under control.

Raven embraced her too and Lexa noticed all the ways this contact was different from Clarke's.

Clarke shared one last look at Lexa before walking in the direction of the customs. She didn't look back. She would have run back to Lexa if she did. Instead, she sent a last message right before the boarding started.

Clarke felt a punch in her stomach. She missed Lexa already and she hadn't even left Montreal.

A few miles away, in Montreal's train station, Lexa's phone buzzed her pocket. The young woman's face was void of emotions as she waited for her train to Toronto to arrive.

She felt empty.

 _ **May we meet again.**_

Some things were easier to say by text message. It didn't make them any less real than their vocal equivalent. Lexa cleared her throat to hide the tiny sob that almost escaped.

She stared at the screen, the message burning itself in her retinas. The mountain of emotions didn't surprise her.

She had no idea how to respond. She wished she could tell Clarke Europe was magical, that the artist would find herself in those wonderful countries, but the words refused to leave her mind. She wished she could tell her fingers to type any kind of positive answer, but all she could type were words she would not allow to be sent. Messages such 'don't go' didn't sound adequate in this situation.

Lexa felt herself being stuck in a situation she disliked with passion. She cursed at her inability to answer, and cursed Clarke for having such power over her already.

Lexa struggled with her will to not allow herself to be weak again.

She had been through many storms in her life already.

She knew what to do when one wanted to be left alone. She knew the proper answer whenever Anya asked about her emotional state. She knew how to create dreams with her words and how to raise an army of shields against nightmares. She knew what to do when confronted with grief and guilt. She knew what to do when confronted with death. She knew how to react when the world was crumbling down, when all hope left her surroundings, when everything strayed from the road to happiness.

Lexa had known how to deal with her loved one being sick and on the edge of passing.

Lexa had known what to do when her lover asked for help.

Lexa had known how to deal with a love that was meant to end by the end of the year.

Lexa had known how to transform waterfalls of tears to the brightest smiles.

She knew how to face a lover stuck in a hospital bed. She knew how to face sickness and the presence of death's shadow over their head.

Lexa knew a lot of things.

But right now, facing this simple message, she was unable to figure out how to answer.

She had no idea how to deal with something, someone, that wasn't within her physical reach.

She knew how to survive in the presence of her dying lover, but she did not know how to cope with the absence of someone she already considered a special kind of friend.

It was a whole new situation, a whole new scenario she had never played before.

She felt slightly desperate.

This wasn't the same kind of despair as the one she had been submerged in all those past years.

This wasn't a despair driven by illness and fevers and heart attacks and darkness. It wasn't responsible of stealing Costia's life bit by bit, as if it had only this purpose to fulfill. It wasn't in front of her, ravaging her lover's body. It wasn't something she could cure with drugs or a simple surgery. It wasn't something she could see.

This was another kind of despair, one she could not touch, not imagine, not reach in the physical world.

It was the one made of uncertainties and hope and idealization of all kinds and perhaps something deeper than a simple friendship. It was the one that had slowly taken over her mind, without her realizing it. It was responsible for type of heartache she thought she would never be able to feel again after Costia's death. It was even more dangerous than the most ferocious illness in the world. It attacked the mind and the heart, but left rationality untouched.

But what was rationality good for, when people ignored its advices once they were under the influence of despair?

It was the kind of despair that was born from an unexpected source, one people often didn't suspect to be responsible.

It was born from love.

Or maybe it wasn't quite despair. Maybe it wasn't the total absence of hope of getting closer to Clarke. Because Lexa had hope that they would meet again.

She had no idea when, but she would make it happen.

Maybe it was simply another kind of madness.

The one no one could control, no one could cure, no one could survive.

The one everyone welcomed nowadays.

But still, it felt like despair. True love was the ultimate form of despair. One that could not be understood.

It brought people the highest highs. It brought them someone who cared about them. It surpassed limits. It made them feel incredibly powerful, stronger than any obstacles facing them. It transformed the simple human being into much more. It fueled their will to work for a better tomorrow.

But it also could transform into something terrible. Once love disappeared, people were left with a feeling of never knowing if they would ever feel it again. They had no way of finding someone to make them feel this rush of joy again. They had no idea where to look for such a divine feeling. They didn't quite know where love came from in the very beginning, so how could they know where to find it?

The mere thought of never feeling that way again was enough to crucify them.

The only solution was to wait and hope. To search as much as they could, while never really knowing if they were headed in the right direction or not. They longed for that once in a lifetime soulmate.

Not everyone found it.

And eventually, the absence of love evolved into the absence of hope of finding this feeling again.

Despair was born from love.

And right now, Lexa felt like she had let the one person who could understand her walk away.

She had no idea what would happen to them, if distance would have the final word in their relationship, whatever it was.

Even if Lexa didn't allow it, love had already chosen her heart as its home.

It was a matter of time to know whether or not she would accept it, whether or not she would let it become despair.

* * *

"So, what's with the cold shoulder?"

They were sitting in the plane, waiting for it to fly far away from Lexa. At least, that was Clarke's point of view about the situation. Raven just couldn't wait to truly leave the continent. Europe waited for them. They had planned two months to visit as many countries as they could. Then, they would move to Asia for a quick stop.

"I wasn't that cold."

Clarke played with the safety sheet as she shook her head in disbelief. She never read those. She would probably die first if there was any kind of emergency on board. She simply hoped there wouldn't.

"You've ignored Lexa since that phone call with O. What happened? Don't give me lame excuses."

Clarke was a bit impatient, something Raven noticed had started as soon as Lexa had disappeared from their view. The artist was fiddling with her hands and actively trying to focus her mind on everything but Lexa. All of Raven's questions about how it felt to finally meet Lexa had been ignored. Clarke sealed her thoughts away.

Raven knew her better than that. Her best friend was crushed. If she had known Lexa would have had such an effect on Clarke, Raven is sure she would have never allowed her to join them in Montreal.

"It's Octavia. She called me and she was with Lincoln. She asked what we were up to and put me on speakers. She never hides anything from Lincoln. So I told her a little about our plans and I mentioned Lexa."

Clarke urged her to go on. There was a name in the back of her mind that wanted to be spoken out loud. She simply wanted Raven to finish before she dropped the bomb.

"Lincoln said he was glad to hear about Lexa doing well. He said she had just been through a rough path and that he had been worried about her. Apparently they know each other through some neighbor in high school. He said he saw Lexa changing over the years, but that they were close to each other before. Are you sure you know the girl, Clarke?"

Clarke almost chuckled. Lincoln knew Lexa. It was such a small world after all. It didn't seem much like it when she was about to go three thousand miles away from her most recent friend.

"I'm sure. You're the one who said we needed to take chances. I trust Lexa."

"He implied something. I don't think he meant to, Octavia even stopped him from saying much, but it was already out. He asked if you would make sure to take her pocket knife away from her next time you saw her. Now, I didn't hear more and I don't want to assume, but…"

Raven let the rest of her sentence blank. Clarke's mind briefly went to an image of Finn, drinking away his misery, hiding his guilt in the dense cloud of toxic smoke, adopting all kind of self-destructive behaviors. Never had he used a knife to harm himself, but Raven once had noticed a brand new blade hidden in his bag. There was no need for blade anywhere in their city.

"I'll call O later. I'll tell her there's nothing to worry about. I trust her, I tell you. I didn't see any knife when I was with her."

"I don't think she'd just take it out in the light of the day."

Clarke kept her mouth shut. She didn't want Raven to know about last night. It was Lexa's secret. It was hers as well. It was their moment.

"I didn't see any scars," Clarke replied.

And it was true. She hadn't. Maybe Lexa had done something in the past, but it didn't mean she still did. And even if she did, that wouldn't stop Clarke from helping her. She wasn't one to judge someone else on their erratic behavior. She would be a hypocrite to.

"I don't want you to go through what I've been," Raven whispered. "You were there when Finn went insane. You know how it affected us. You saw where it led."

"I know Rae. Look, Lexa's got some issues, but we all do. I'll be careful, but I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"You care."

It was a fact, not a question.

"I do," Clarke admitted, looking straight into Raven's eyes. "And I know what I'm doing."

Raven threw her friend a warning look, but didn't protest. She had to trust Clarke. She had to trust that the happiness she had witnessed when Lexa was around Clarke would last. She had to trust a stranger to take care of her best friend.

She hated that situation. She wished there was something she could do, run a background check on Lexa or something, anything, but she respected herself too much to become someone like this.

The plane took off a few minutes later and Raven noticed the way Clarke looked out the window like she was abandoning a part of her behind.

It was the complete opposite of the Clarke Griffin who had planned the Europe part of their journey. The blonde had had stars in her eyes the whole time. She had excitedly picked the best countries to visit, the best roads to walk on, the best restaurants to eat in. She had convinced Raven to stay around two months in Europe, when the shorter woman only wanted to stay a month.

It seemed as if Clarke had created a whole new life in Europe while planning the trip.

Now it only seemed as if she already wanted to get off the plane.

The only explanation was Lexa, Raven knew it, and she couldn't do anything but hope for the best.

Clarke's phone buzzed as soon as she could turn it back on.

 _May we meet again._

Clarke felt a weight in her stomach and a rock in her throat at this single line. She could hear Lexa's voice saying this line loud and clear. She could imagine the way Lexa would look at her while saying it, looking serious but being unable to hide the emotions in her eyes.

One thing Clarke had learned during their short moments together was that the taller woman was an expert to hide her emotions. But her eyes, they could never quite resist Clarke's on them. They disclosed everything the blonde wanted to read.

Clarke didn't even have to try hard. It was as if Lexa herself allowed her to read into her soul. It was as if Lexa knew she had no chance against Clarke.

They were well elevated in the sky when Clarke broke the silence and raised her voice over the motor's loudness.

"Raven."

Raven's head turned to face her friend. There was a rare look of seriousness displayed on Clarke's features, and the younger woman expected the worse.

"Talk or breathe, C, it looks like you're about to pass out."

Clarke took a deep breath and forced her cardiac rhythm to slow down. She hoped she wasn't making a mistake by telling Raven. But she couldn't keep her thoughts inside without exploding.

"It's Lexa. I care about her. I really do. As my best friend, I need your advice on something."

"I know Clarke, you care, you'll be careful, you'll make sure she's fine. Look, we'll be in Europe in about six hours. She'll be in Toronto. Whatever you do, don't think too much about it. It will only give you a headache. You two will still be in contact. It's not over. You didn't get divorced already and don't have to share custody of your seven kids."

"I'm serious, Rae."

Raven frowned and asked for more information with a sign of her head. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. She slightly prayed Clarke truly didn't want to go back to Canada because that would ruin everything.

"It's about Costia."

The name rang a bell in Raven's head, one that hadn't been knocked on for two years.

"She was Lexa's girlfriend."

The bell rang louder and louder until Raven felt she was going deaf.

"She died after she received Wells' heart. Should I tell her?"

Clarke's eyes were flooded by confusion and sadness.

"I don't mind, but what if she does?" Clarke murmured. "What if she stops talking to me?"

She remembered the quiet conversation about bearing the pain of being left alive so that their deceased loved people would not feel such burden.

She wondered if the weight of the truth was as heavy.

She wondered if its weight was worse.

* * *

Lexa was back in Toronto, but her heart was missing. It laid somewhere in-between, at a distance that she couldn't measure.

She sighed, the unfinished poutine lunch meal in front of her. She hated to admit it, but this amount of grotesque mix tasted amazing. She would need to thank Clarke someday. She had send Clarke a picture of the tiny drawing the blonde had made a few days earlier, as a proof that she had come here.

It had been twenty-four hours since Clarke's last message, 'may we meet again', and Lexa started to feel the anxiety bubbling under her calm surface. She knew Clarke was supposed to text her as soon as she'd landed, and she currently was reviewing all the possible apocalyptic scenarios in her mind. She really wished they wouldn't drift apart. She had no idea what she would do if it happened.

She stared absently at her phone's screen and shook her head. It wasn't like her to feel so attached to someone. She had mentioned Clarke a few times when she gave news to Anya, and even her friend had noticed a slight change of tone whenever the artist's name popped out.

The amount of teasing Lexa had faced since then had been enough to fill a lifetime.

Clarke's next message arrived unexpectedly, just as Lexa was about to walk out of the restaurant.

 _ **Isn't it fries-tastic? Told you.**_

Lexa didn't even try to stop the joy from her features. She knew it was pointless. She couldn't help herself. The wave of relief washed over her mind and body. It cleaned her from all the negative thoughts, all the catastrophic ideas she had had just a few minutes ago.

Only Clarke could bring her this amount of nervousness only to take it all away by a single line a few seconds later.

 _It is. Have you arrived safely?_

 _ **We did. Sorry for the delay. It's so hard to not get lost and my phone died after we**_ _ **used the GPS for too long.**_

 _Guess what?_

 _I have already found the perfect mirror for you._

 _ **You're a dork, you know that?**_

 _ **Raven says hi. We're at the hotel. It's only seven but the jetlag is a bitch.**_

Lexa nodded to herself. Jet lag. Time difference. Distance.

It all seemed so real now.

Too real.

 _Get some rest._

 _ **Don't miss me too much.**_

Lexa chuckled. There was only one proper answer to this. Clarke's ego was too big for herself.

 _I won't._

But she would. She would miss Clarke every second of her day.

Clarke was simply that special to her.

 _ **Yeah, right.**_

 _Not one second._

 _ **FINE. I won't either.**_

Even distance couldn't hide the teasing tone of these words. Clarke's voice was still fresh in Lexa's mind, and she found pleasure in imagining the blonde saying those words out loud. Lexa wondered if her imaginary interpretation was accurate.

She still felt slightly bad. There was a tiny, very minuscule chance that Clarke had believed her, and Lexa would rather face every gorilla of this planet than end the conversation this way.

 _Clarke?_

 _ **Yes?**_

Clarke's fast answers did nothing to ease the strong increase of Lexa's heartbeat's rhythm as the girl typed her reply. They typed their messages at the speed of light, as if it would be enough to erase the miles between them.

This was what amazed her the most about virtual encounters. The instant answers made distance poof out in a cloud of smoke. It tricked her mind into believing they were closer than they truly were. It fooled with her rationality and played with her perception of the situation. It made her believe that something could happen between them, when reality was much less gentle than this.

 _I miss you already._

This time, the answer came slowly. In fact, Lexa almost thought Clarke had fallen asleep on her side of the world. She didn't regret sending those words though. She would never take them back.

Clarke deserved to know how important she was.

Lexa was sure that Clarke didn't know just how amazing she was. She would make sure to let her know. She would make Clarke's importance known to the entire world, the entire universe and the next. Or at least, she would try. Lexa was sure Clarke's qualities could not be illustrated by simple words. They would never be enough.

 _ **I know.**_

 _ **I miss you too.**_

Lexa didn't want to hurt Clarke, just like Clarke would rather suffer in Lexa's place.

But right now, six thousand kilometers apart, the pain just didn't seem to be ready to leave them alone any time soon.

* * *

 **I will post chapter 7, which is considerably shorter, next week-end. Then I'm leaving on a trip to California to visit Vegas/LA/SF, and won't be able to update for a few days.**

 **Don't worry, chapter 7 is basically an interlude and a time jump so you don't have to go through (read: so I don't have to write) five chapters of clexa not being together. That said, it will be important to read for the emotional aspects.**


	7. Hello

**Sorry for the wait.**

 **Enjoy this shorter chapter.**

 **Next chapter is happier, I promise.**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa for proofreading.**

 **Italic: Lexa to Clarke**

 **Bold Italic: Clarke to Lexa**

 **Inspired by the song "Hello" by Hedley, the ACOUSTIC version.**

* * *

 **Hello – Interlude**

There are different types of love.

There is family, a bond traditionally made by blood that has evolved to include many more definitions over the years. It portrays safety before anything else. If people are lucky, family becomes the solid ground on which they stand. It becomes an anchor to steady them against the most violent storms they come across. It follows them their whole life and even after death.

There are differences between a simple friendship and a deep relationship between two people who consider themselves soulmates. The levels of intimacy and trust vary, but the outcome remains something incredibly precious that everyone protects with their life.

There are different levels of friendship. Some people are close, so close that they almost look like a couple. They share everything, all their deepest secrets, their scariest fears, their greatest dreams. They call themselves 'sisters', 'brothers', 'best friend for life forever' and such.

Some people are only friends through other people. They talk, they share their lives' adventures, but they can live separately. They care about each other, but they wouldn't run into a house on fire to save each other. They worry when the other person gets sick, but they won't be running to bring them medicine anytime soon.

Some people are Facebook friends. They met once and it was enough to declare them as friends. They wish each other a happy birthday when the memo comes, but they never send them cards, never give them gifts, never go to their parties. They are a number to one another, a plus one in the total amount of virtual friends they display to the world. But still, they somehow matter to each other.

Some people see their friendship transforming into something incredible. They witness the evolution of their simple affection for one another to the purest feeling, one that defies everyone's understanding of it. It becomes love. It fills them with more passion than before. It is grandiose.

Everyone would agree to say that these types of affection are what make love worth living.

But there is a fine line between the good and the bad.

The once protective family can become one's personal hell. It takes very little for a parent to turn to another monster and a child to become another sad statistic of abuse. Family has been blamed countless times for one's horrific behavior, and while it isn't a direct cause, its influence is undeniable. What happens when the first group of people that is supposed to protect you goes nuts and hurts you instead?

Who do you turn to?

The friends. But even friendship can turn bad. A best friend's jealousy has no limits. A traitor's actions know no boundaries. A small conflict can turn into a nuclear war if one is not careful enough. Backstabbing is a common exchange currency between people. All they need is the perception of something going wrong. It takes the most insignificant fight just to spark a wildfire in someone's heart.

And Love. It has never been fully understood by anyone.

Love is the cause of the invincibility for some and the mortality of others. When love is misunderstood, it can lead to acts of stalking and dependency. It can lead to unhealthy relationships, people putting their health at risk to protect the status of their relationship. It can force people to lose their boundaries. They merge with the other and forget their own identity. They cannot find themselves anymore. They become one.

And what about affective dependency? What about sexual aggressors claiming they did it for love? What about domestic violence and people forever being stuck into this vicious circle because they love the other? What happens when the cause of their happiness becomes the road to hell as well?

What happens when love, any type of it, leave?

Loneliness.

Not the kind of loneliness one feels only at two in the morning when the only companions they have are the distant stars of the universe. Not the kind of loneliness one feels only when no one they know is reachable at the moment.

The true, crushing, suffocating, heart-shattering kind of loneliness.

It took only two days for Clarke and Raven to recover from the heavy jet lag. Two days during which Clarke had a hard time to answer Lexa's messages as quickly as she used to. She felt incredibly bad whenever she answered too late, despite Raven's reassuring words. She knew Lexa understood the situation perfectly and would never blame her for not answering within the usual window of time.

It didn't mean Clarke enjoyed that situation.

They missed each other more than they missed anyone else and they aggressively tried to ignore it, only to succumb every time. The feeling of needing someone so much frustrated them, especially because they both couldn't use rationality to explain what made this feeling so intense. How could they miss someone they hadn't even known for a month, that much? How could they miss someone's presence that much? How could they miss someone who was alive even more than their deceased loved ones?

There was no rational explanation. It simply was.

It was as if the laws of physics had implied that Clarke Griffin would miss Lexa Woods, and vice versa. It was written in the sky, in the mathematical formulas, in the different kinds of waves that composed the world.

It had been an emotional roller coaster and Lexa hated extreme rides.

She feared she would forget Clarke's voice if she wasn't reminded of it everyday. Now that she had heard it, she never wanted to live in the silence ever again. It was the only melody she wanted to be surrounded by. It was the only rhythm her heartbeat needed to follow. It was the only harmony she needed to go through life in a fluid motion.

It had been an endless two days of Lexa longing for Clarke's presence like one needed air to live.

It had been two days of confusion. Two days of not knowing what to expect and therefore, waiting for the worse to happen.

Two days of Lexa sending good morning texts when it was already noon in Paris, and Clarke wishing Lexa a good night when it was barely five in the evening on the East coast of Canada.

Two days of Lexa wishing she could call Clarke and hear her voice, but never actually pressing the call button on her phone, fearing the reaction of the blonde.

Two days of Clarke wishing she could fly back to Canada simply to embrace Lexa and get lost in her scent one more time, and perhaps a million more.

When they had finally caught each other's answer in a short window of a five minutes of waiting, they had released a breath of relief they didn't even know they held. Unlimited texting and countless words exchanged didn't convey a single percent of how grateful they were for this small moment of not having to wait for each other's messages.

Even more importantly for Clarke, she had come to the realization that it would not be hard at all to keep regular contact with Lexa. As soon as the jet-lag influence went missing, as soon as the routine took back its rightful place, the exact time difference had been calculated and both women adjusted to it.

It had started well. Too well. So well that Clarke hadn't even noticed a change. It was as if the six hours of difference between Paris and Toronto didn't even exist. Of course they weren't in contact as often as before, but it was still enough to satisfy them.

But things could not remain that way.

Lexa moved to Vancouver and Clarke wandered farther to the East.

Soon, too soon, time took control of their interactions.

Six hours of time difference became seven, eight, nine, twelve.

And yet, it was as if the more the distance grew, the more honest they were with their words, as if they were both trying to make up for the miles in-between.

Between sleepless nights and improvised lunches at the same time, despite the late or early hours, even exhaustion couldn't stop them from exchanging news.

Between days waiting for the other to answer a message and weeks praying that the other was taking care of herself, even time couldn't control their behavior anymore.

Between random anecdotes at all time of the day and night, and quiet confessions under the moonlight or the burning sun, even their biological clock couldn't stop them from eagerly typing more words everyday.

Between every goodbye and hello, between every good morning and goodnight, between every 'are you there' and 'always for you', between countless 'I miss you' and 'I wish you were here', they fell in love without even realizing it.

* * *

Clarke and Raven visited the Louvre. They wandered for hours in halls filled with the most famous paintings in the world and sculptures that defy imagination. The Mona Lisa was surprisingly tiny compared to its grandiose value to the world. They saw countless masterpieces and got lost between million dollar drawings. They marveled in front of the unimaginable mixes of colors and shapes.

The first message Clarke sent to Lexa when she left the legendary museum was small, simple compared to the thousand ways she could describe her experience, but it conveyed everything.

 _ **You're beautiful.**_

Lexa drove for many days across Canada. She witnessed more sunsets than she ever thought she would. She saw the sky adopt the colors of the earth. She breathed the fresh air of the Canadian Prairies and stayed in awe at the never ending flat horizon. She crossed tornadoes and survived the most violent thunderstorms as she remained safely locked inside, her eyes hypnotized at the sight of lightning striking the deserted world.

She had the air knocked out her lungs when she got trapped in one of those storms by bad luck and almost passed out because of the lack of oxygen, and yet, when she told Clarke about it, she ended by a simple sentence as well.

 _You are breathtaking._

Clarke visited the catacombs in Paris. It was dark, creepy and it still gave her chills even when she was back on the surface. Every skull seemed to look directly into her soul, asking her why they were trapped forever under the surface. Every ghost seemed to whisper tales of the underworld, stories of the kingdom of death. Clarke had a hard time feeling alive, walking amongst this endless cemetery.

 _ **You make me feel alive.**_

Lexa visited every science center she came across, in every Canadian city she saw. She learned about the history of nature, the cycles of biology, the wonders of space and the magic behind chemistry. She discovered hundred of things she didn't know. She had the opportunity to build her own little machines when she listened to a conference from a famous physics doctorate. She read every book, every scientific article she could find about every secret the world kept.

 _I would like to know everything about you._

Clarke tasted the best waffles she'd ever have in Belgium. Brussels' architecture was a dream come true and the Grand Place seemed to come straight from another land. The city welcomed them with open arms and it made for good change from the rushing life of Paris. It gave them back a kind of peace of mind they hadn't felt in awhile. It felt like this country held the treasure of Europe in its limited geographical area.

 _ **You make me feel safe.**_

Lexa stood in the middle of downtown Vancouver, taking in the sight of the tall buildings reaching for the sky with the enchanting view of the mountains in the horizon. It was one of the rare cloudless days in Vancouver. She didn't know what blinded her the most: the flashing city lights or the bright white top of the mountains. She bumped into many people this day. She was too distracted by the beauty of this perfect equilibrium between nature and technology, and by the lack of message from Clarke in the recent hours. She kept colliding with people for the rest of the day, reminding her she was never without company.

 _It feels lonely without you._

Clarke got lost in a small city outside Switzerland. She and Raven were visiting a small medieval castle and had missed their train back to the hotel. It didn't matter. They searched through every room of the castle, revealing every little aspect to their eyes. They pretended they were back in the ancient times, struggling to govern the population without risking a revolution. They created many theories about the past lives of their ancestors. They reenacted famous scenes they knew from historical movies and laughed until they couldn't breathe anymore.

 _ **I feel like I've known you all my life.**_

Lexa arrived in Whitehorse, the capital of Yukon territory in Canada. It was not too cold and she could walk around without the need to wearing three layers of clothes. She arrived at the end of the northern lights season, but she was lucky enough to witness one in the middle of her last night spent there. She ran under the kaleidoscope of bright colors and it felt like living inside a rainbow. She couldn't tear her eyes away from this ribbon of violet, azure and golden shades in the sky.

 _You bring colors to my grey existence._

Clarke tried to learn German once she arrived in Berlin, but the pronunciation came straight from hell. She felt lost in translation and did her best to at least learn a few words. She supported a famous football team and cheered loudly from the bleachers. The local team won and they were invited to many bars to celebrate. She downed too many shots and tried too many beers. She managed to get home with Raven on her back and sent a message to Lexa before she passed out on the couch.

 _ **You're intoxicating.**_

Lexa hiked to the top of a small mountain, easily accessible to the public. She witnessed a sky full of stars and galaxies, illuminating her world in the best possible way. She lighted a small campfire and roasted marshmallows around midnight, unable to fall asleep. If she closed her eyes, it would all be over too soon and she was not ready to leave. It felt as if every dream she'd ever have, every hope she'd ever have, would come true under the night sky. Limits no longer existed.

 _You're the only one in the dark I see._

Clarke and Raven eventually took a train from Germany to Italy and reached Greece through a ride on the sea. They were blessed by the most exhilarating sights. They smelled the best scents in Egypt, spices of all sorts gifting their senses with miraculous sensations. They tasted the ambrosial meals of India as if they had never eaten anything their entire lives. They interacted with different cultures and ethnicities, and suddenly became aware of the importance of modesty. Their curiosity never ceased to grow and wherever they looked, something incredible awaited them.

 _ **You're the only one the world should see.**_

Lexa arrived in Australia soon after, and finally, finally, they got rid of that terrible twelve hours of time difference. They had spent an eternity apart and even the four hours between them seemed too much. Lexa had the opportunity to surf and found herself wondering if swimming to Egypt was something within her reach. She bonded with kangaroos and wondered if she could jump to Clarke's current position. She climbed another mountain and suddenly, mountains didn't seem like a good compromise anymore.

She would give up the earth if it meant she could give Clarke access to the sky.

 _I'm always looking for you. I can never find you._

 _ **I'm right here.**_

 _And I'm over there._

Seven thousand kilometers away.

 _ **You matter to me.**_

 _You will never know how much I care._

Quiet words sent in the middle of the night, where everything could be said.

Quiet words that were never brought up during the light of the day.

Quiet words that meant everything.

* * *

Soon, text messages stopped being enough. Words weren't enough. Pictures didn't satisfy Lexa either. Whenever Clarke sent her a picture with Raven, herself and a tall monument behind them, Lexa frowned. She didn't understand why Clarke wasn't the monument itself, why the world didn't bow to the perfection the blonde was.

Two months passed. An infinity of quiet confessions was exchanged, only to be buried once the sun came up. Clarke lost herself in Africa and Lexa landed in Japan, where she climbed Mt Fuji and wished Clarke could meet her on top of the mountain.

And then a third month went by, during which they finally gave up and exchanged calls. Hearing each other's voice soothed their pain away, but only for a few days. Lexa made sure to call Clarke when she knew the blonde was awake, despite Clarke repeating she wouldn't mind being woken up by Lexa's voice.

By the beginning of the fourth one, talking to each other only brought more pain to their souls. Lexa called Clarke in the middle of the night once. Clarke had stayed awake all night, waiting for her phone to ring, but when she had answered, the words simply wouldn't come out. She stayed on the phone, listening to Lexa sleeping, silently wiping tears off her face. She had never thought missing someone could hurt that much.

They would spend their entire day thinking about each other. They would spend their entire day looking at their phone, waiting for a message that often never came because of their respective activities. Their minds were surrounded by the thought of the other. Every morning, they woke up with the hope that today would turn out to be different, and every night, they went to bed feeling a greater loss than the previous day.

They knew why they acted like this.

They didn't admit it. They denied it. They denied the depth of their feelings.

It was like living without half of their soul.

It was an inhumane torture.

It hurt. It hurt because everything that felt right to them was taken away by boundaries between countries. Every tear that managed to escape their eyes told a story from a prisoner of love. Every cry that left their throat when they thought no one could hear them was a sign that the poison of loneliness weighted more on their conscience.

Phone calls were not enough. Frequent messages were not enough. Temporary goodbyes were too painful to bear and every hello was tainted by the seconds bringing them closer to another "I have to go." Every "don't go" made things worse because they didn't want to go. They never wanted to go.

It was simply not enough. It would never be enough.

What was "enough"?

What was "enough" when two people simply could not bear the thought of being apart?

What was "enough" when two people lived only through the other's presence?

Was "enough" even possible to reach for two people who cared so much about each other?

Was forever enough when Love took over someone's soul?

* * *

Clarke didn't feel like Lexa was listening when they talked on the phone and she was right. Lexa didn't listen. Lexa memorized. Lexa memorized every single thing Clarke said. Lexa tried to remember Clarke's voice as much as she could. Lexa didn't simply listen to what Clarke said. Lexa lived in Clarke's voice.

Clarke had shouted and screamed and yelled and whispered and murmured, to a multitude of people during her trip. And yet, the only person she wanted there to listen to her was Lexa.

Clarke had no idea if Lexa missed her as much as she did. She wished she could ask Lexa about it. But whenever she wanted to admit how enormous the ache in her chest was, irrational fears popped out in her head. She could not explicitly admit how she felt to Lexa. Not when there were too many unsaid things between them. Not when Wells' story still remained hidden from the girl with green eyes.

Lexa missed Clarke like one missed the glacial winter once the suffocating heat of summer filled the sunny days.

Clarke missed Lexa like one missed the warmth of the sun when clouds blocked all visible light.

 _ **Don't miss me too much ; )**_

A single heartbeat.

 _You know I will._

* * *

Lexa managed to stay away from the knife, from every knife. She texted Clarke when she felt overwhelmed by the need to slice her skin, and eventually, she learned to cope without disturbing the sleeping beauty on the other side of the globe. It was hard. The number of nights she spent begging for Clarke to appear and whisper in her ear was way too high. Her demons always knocked stronger at her door when the lights were out.

Lexa needed Clarke every night. She only called Clarke when she had her phone in one hand and the knife in the other. The blonde knew when Lexa was on the edge of exploding and always managed to avoid the crisis by diverting her attention to something else.

Lexa missed Clarke like one missed a loving family after too much time spent away from home.

Clarke missed Lexa like one missed their friends after too much time spent with strangers.

 _ **Are you okay?**_

The sound of the blame falling to the ground.

 _Yes, you're here._

* * *

It always made Clarke's heart hurt too much when Lexa didn't seem okay, as if both of them were connected. She always tried to remember the last time she saw Lexa smile, and it was always too far in the past. She could remember the way Lexa's lips curled up to make it seem like a smile, but she was also acutely aware of the way it never seemed to reach her emerald eyes. Pictures of the other woman didn't convey the same unique beauty Clarke knew existed whenever Lexa smiled.

Clarke wished there was something she could do. Text messages were too distant and phone calls would never be as comforting as a tight embrace. The need to find herself in the arms of Lexa grew stronger every passing minute and the artist knew it was a matter of time because she lost the fight against rationality. Feelings were always stronger in those types of situations. She wished she could use teleportation to finally see Lexa in real life, rather than a picture made of pixels.

Clarke almost lost her phone twice. Raven had to reassure her friend that no, losing her phone wouldn't mean losing Lexa, that Lexa didn't live in this phone, that Lexa was not the phone itself.

Lexa missed Clarke like a starving person missed their favorite meal.

Clarke missed Lexa like a dehydrated person missed a drop of water.

 _ **Guess what I am doing?**_

 _It's two in the morning where you are, shouldn't you be sleeping?_

 _ **I'm pretending you're here with me.**_

Lexa was terrified. She knew those feelings. She recognized them. She recognized them and at the same time, she had no idea what they were. They weren't quite the same as how she felt towards Costia. They were different. Not in a good or bad way, but simply different. It felt amazing. It felt like the end of the world as she knew it. It felt like another Big Bang. The beginning and the end, both at the same time.

She was afraid to fall for Clarke, really fall.

But she knew, if she didn't take a chance, she would never know more about those feelings. It was like killing the opportunity before it was even offered to her. She had been hinting to Clarke, and the blonde had answered the same way, about how deeply she cared about her. But she couldn't say the words. She couldn't quite say how she felt. Clarke couldn't either.

 _I don't want to be alone._

 _ **You're not alone.**_

But Lexa felt incredibly alone. It was different than the loneliness she felt when she thought about Costia. She had accepted the fact that Costia was unreachable, that she would never be back in the world of the living. But Clarke, she wasn't gone from this world. Clarke was walking on the same planet as Lexa. Clarke breathed the same air, ate the same food, saw the same wonders. Clarke was so close to her and yet Lexa couldn't simply run to her.

It felt like they were at war against their feelings, but it was a lost fight before the battle even begun. It felt like no matter how hard they tried, they would lose. Distance was too far, Time was constantly trying to separate them, and even their phones lost batteries at the worse possible moments.

Both wanted to join the other, but none did. Both didn't want to appear needy or weak. Both couldn't slow down to wait for the other. They still had their respective wounds to heal.

Clarke didn't know what to tell Lexa about Wells, and Lexa feared Clarke's reaction to her proximity with her pocket knife.

Lexa missed Clarke like one missed their favorite song after becoming deaf.

Clarke missed Lexa like one missed their favorite color after becoming blind.

They both reached the point of no return and admitted they wanted to see each other. It took way too long, but it happened.

Lexa missed Clarke like a prisoner condemned for life missed freedom.

Clarke missed Lexa like a soldier caught in a war zone missed peace.

They both agreed to meet in-between. They picked a country and a date, and started counting the days of their meeting.

Lexa knew she wasn't truly alone.

But it felt like she was.

Incredibly alone.

When they finally met, after four months and a half since their first meeting, they didn't even run to each other. They didn't embrace each other at first. They didn't express their happiness with loud screams and cheers. They didn't even touch each other in any way.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, taking in the sight of the other. They noticed the little differences between their four months ago personas and the current person they were.

They breathed each other back to life with a simple touch of their eyes.

Lexa had missed Clarke as if she was the gravity that held her to the earth.

Clarke had missed Lexa as if she was the rocket that sent her to cloud nine.

"Hello."

* * *

 **I'm going to California but I will update as soon as possible!**

 **"In the dark I see" is a formulation that comes from LIGHTS' song of the same name.**


	8. Imagine

**I am back from California! It was paradise. That's it. I now know what people mean when they talk about LA's traffic.**

 **And this trip gave me plenty of ideas for this fanfic.**

 **Reminder that our OTP just spent 4 months apart.**

 **Enjoy this slightly less angtsy chapter because it's about time.**

 **As susal, thanks to Soncha_Kapa on twitter for proofreading.**

* * *

 **Imagine**

What would one do in the name of love?

The answer was not as simple as 'getting married'.

Lexa wished she knew the answer.

Some give up everything they have just to be with someone. Some change countries, even their identities, just to follow their loved one. Some pretend to be someone else. Some do things they'd never have done in other circumstances. Some change the entire world just to see another smile. Some surpass their limits until their last breath, just to attract someone.

Some change their core beliefs, just because of the one person they care about.

Some lose themselves.

Some kill others.

Some kill themselves out of despair.

Love brings the best and the worst in someone. It is never neutral. If it were, there would be nothing special about it, nothing to fascinate people.

Love is a mystery.

Love murders.

Love saves.

Love gives and takes mercilessly.

Love is selfish and immensely caring.

Love makes people blind, as they run with their eyes closed toward their death or their revival.

What is worse between not caring enough and caring too much? If people didn't care, they wouldn't give a second thought about hurting each other. They wouldn't mind being hurt. They wouldn't mind not following the rules. They would take and take and take until nothing is left to others and they would not feel one ounce of remorse. They would do as they please, ignoring the consequences and invalidating the rules of the world. They wouldn't even believe in love with a capital L.

If someone cares too much, the first person they risk hurting is themselves. They put themselves as the main target. They make their vulnerability known to someone else. So what makes it worth it? What makes falling in love worth the pain?

Lexa didn't know, but she wished she did. She wished someone, anyone, knew so they could tell her.

What's the ultimate proof of love?

Is it material? Is it made of money? Is it the brand new car someone buys their loved one? Is it a brand new house? Is it even the diamond ring that empties a person's bank account? What is it about that diamond ring that suddenly makes love more real than it already was? Who decided a ring was the ultimate step to take when it came to love?

Love cannot be material. There is no magic in material things. There is no charm, no fantasy, no superior meaning. Love cannot simply be compared to something that can be thrown away and replaced. There's no glory in this. It has to be more. It has to mean more. It has to be irreplaceable.

Is love made of selfishness? Is it truly as unconditional as eternal romantics like to believe? Is it made of words or actions, and if so, which ones? Does it take roots in whispered words in the middle of the night and subtle touches when no one is looking, or is it born from passionate speeches to the universe and burning kisses that everyone witnesses?

True love might be unconditional, but it rarely occurs. Everyone wants something. Everyone needs something. In most cases, sooner or later, one wants more than what the other is willing to give, and the relationship crumbles down. True love isn't easy to find. It isn't easy to fight for. It isn't easy to keep or protect.

And if it is true love, until death tears the lovers apart, until they both die at the same time, does it mean they sign a suicide pact when they fall in love?

Is love truly as universal as the world dreams it to be?

Some would say it is simply being happy with someone, being satisfied, feeling invincible. Some would say it is magical and unexplainable, that trying to define it removes its magic. Some would say it demands patience, hard work and respect. Some would say it is nothing. Some don't believe in love with a capital L. Some believe in it, but spend their whole life avoiding it, terrified of being broken by its touch.

Some would say there are thousand different types of love, so how is it possible to know the one you feel is truly Love.

How do you know it even exists?

How does one know the line between just a relationship and love has been crossed? It is the blurriest of all kinds of boundaries in this world. People make mistakes about it all the time and it often costs their relationship, whatever it originally was. There are no miracle answers to this riddle as old as time.

How is the line crossed? Is it by the way they look at someone else? Is it by the irresistible feeling of wanting to spend as much time as possible with another person? Is it when one feels they cannot live without the other? Is there even a line to cross, or is it inevitable, written somewhere in something called fate?

And why, why is it so damn complicated?

Love is made of the highest highs and the lowest lows, but people always ignore that second part. They keep denying its existence until it stabs them in the heart.

How can one fall in love with another person from a country located ten thousand miles away from their own, but be unable to even feel attracted to anyone they physically crossed path with?

How can one fall in love within minutes with the wrong person, but be unable to notice their soulmate, someone they've known for years, standing a few meters away until it is too late?

How can one fall in love with their complete opposite and make it work during the darkest storms, but be unable to bear the presence of someone similar to them?

What is it about love that makes people fight about it? Why do people fight the cruelest war in the name of something that is completely the opposite? How are people able to commit vilest crimes in the name of love?

Could it be that the entire human race got it all wrong?

Perhaps love is not the key to paradise as they always believed it to be. Maybe in its true form, love leads only to a place of disarray. Love disguised itself like the real predator it is, making everyone its prey. And the world makes it easy : they run toward love as if they couldn't wait to be cursed by its touch.

And when they are bare under its influence, Love strikes. Love brainwashes. Love kills without anyone noticing because it leaves its victims alive.

Why do people believe so much in the value of true love, but spend their life consuming meaningless relationships, skipping from one night stand to another and multiplying random hookups?

Why do people think love is universal, but only between a man and a woman?

Why do people think love has no boundaries, but only between two people whose skin color is the same?

It seems that the unconditional true love everyone believes in exists only within specific conditions.

They give love its importance. They admit it is a feeling that cannot be wasted, that has to be preciously protected. They wait for it to reach them. They want it to hit them hard. They want to fall so deep in it that they can't ever escape its touch.

And yet, they fear it. They hide from it with stupid norms and expectations such the 'no messages before three days have passed' or 'the fear of appearing too needy'. They jump from one partner to another because 'it's cool', and feed on double standards. They lock their life away in their phones and computers, while demanding to know everything about their other half.

They create rules to feed the endless game of pretending not to care. They spend hours and months fearing for their freedom, when in fact, if they took time to learn about the purest form of love, they would notice that Love does not care about stealing their liberty.

Lexa's mind was being crushed by those thoughts.

All those late night confessions, all those secrets spilled under the influence of impulsivity, all those words that meant everything but couldn't be said out loud, Lexa felt them crawling everywhere under her skin.

There was a difference between yesterday and today. She couldn't identify it. Maybe it was unnoticeable because it wasn't a real difference. Maybe everything she felt right now toward Clarke had been there since the very first message they sent each other, and they both had been too blinded to notice it.

What was the difference between her relationship with Clarke yesterday and her relationship with Clarke today?

Was it by the progressive way Lexa would spend her entire day and night with her eyes glued on her screen, texting the one person she wanted to talk to? Was it the way her eyes lit up whenever Clarke's name appeared on the screen? Was it the way her smile automatically appeared whenever Clarke's voice sang in her ears? Was it the way Lexa's fundamental behavior changed whenever the blonde was in the vicinity? Was it the way Clarke made the world a better place for Lexa, and vice-versa? Was it the omnipresence of Clarke in Lexa's thoughts?

Was it the way Lexa worried about Clarke when she had no news in the day?

Was it the way Lexa would move her entire world upside down just to follow Clarke to the edge of the universe?

Was it by the way Lexa was terrified of exploring those feelings more?

The way Lexa allowed herself to believe in love once again?

The way they both could heal from death's touch?

Lexa had yet to decide what she wanted to do for love.

But she also had yet to realize that such decision was not in her power to make. It was something stronger than her simple will.

Love listened to no one and obeyed only itself.

It changed the boundaries between people and forged new ones everyday. It was the cause of all of the greatest evils in this universe and the reason behind every pure moment of happiness. It built new roads between people and gladly took them down whenever it pleased.

Lexa couldn't control love. She could simply follow its lead.

* * *

Raven watched from a few meters away as two silhouettes stood in front of each other.

She looked at them staring at each other, as if they were alone in the entire world, and thought that maybe in this moment, they were.

She noticed the way they took everything in, the slight changes in each other, the different ways that connected them, the aspects that made them so similar while being drastic opposites.

She noticed the way Clarke's eyes traced every line of Lexa's body as if she was afraid it wasn't truly there.

She noticed the way Lexa's eyes embraced Clarke's body in a blanket of admiration and affection.

Her eyes widened when she saw Clarke licking her lips subtly, something Lexa also witnessed.

She heard the way they both were too scared to say a word.

She listened to the way their hearts beat a little louder.

She frowned when she looked at Lexa swallowing the words away, forcing the two women to remain completely speechless in front of one another.

She shivered when Clarke's lips curled up as the brightest smile appeared on her best friend's face, a smile she knew could only appear with the presence of a specific feeling.

She froze when she saw the way they shut the world out and lost themselves in each other's eyes.

She almost laughed when she noticed Clarke struggling to remain in place when the blonde clearly wanted to jump at Lexa's neck and embrace the hell out of her.

She sighed when Clarke took a single step ahead and Lexa's features conveyed impatience.

She clenched her fists when she realized the two stubborn women had no intention of moving closer anytime soon.

She exhaled loudly when Lexa's eyes filled with invisible tears and Clarke finally crossed the distance between them.

She smiled when the two women shared a heartfelt embrace, as if they were each other's air.

She rolled her eyes when she noticed the way they never wanted to let go, the way they breathed each other's scent, the way they snuggled in each other's body, the way they made sure that this, this contact, this reality, was the real one.

She snapped a picture when they stayed in each other's arms as time flew by.

She bit her lower lip as emotions flooded over her at the sight of Clarke looking so damn alive.

Raven watched as Clarke's lips moved to Lexa's ear to murmur secret words that only the two of them would share.

Raven watched as her best friend fell deeper into the open arms of love.

Clarke and Lexa were in love.

Raven prayed it wouldn't take them too long to realize it.

* * *

It was subtle at first. The way everything was different. The way the air they breathed was not the same. The way the food they ate tasted different. The way the sun was shining with more intensity. The way the sun seemed to be gravitating closer to the Earth.

The first day beat awkwardness records.

They acted like those quiet nights and precious secret moments between them across the world had never existed. They acted like anything they said had to be carefully prepared, as if they were robots repeating a practiced speech. They had Raven walking between the two of them. They could feel Raven's suspicious eyes on them but didn't do anything. They could feel the judgment of the young mechanic but didn't say a word.

They acted as if they were simply old friends seeing each other again. They acted as if nothing special had ever happened between them, even flirting with the subjects of past relationships for a while, both of them pretending not to feel the spark of envy. Their hands brushed too many times against one another and they shrugged nervously in answer every time. The tone of their voices was filled with too many hidden emotions, but they acted as if the air wasn't loaded by static electricity threatening to shock them to death at any time, as if they weren't about to be crushed by the atmosphere.

They acted as if they had no emotions at all, and maybe that was the reason the depth of their feelings was impossible to miss for anyone within miles.

Lexa embarrassed herself many times while trying to act casually.

Clarke tripped on invisible rocks too many times while trying to remain in control of her thoughts.

They both had too many useless conversations, trying too hard to fill the silences.

Raven had laughed and laughed and laughed until the air wasn't enough to keep alive.

By some kind of strange mistake, they had booked rooms in different hotels. The late evening separation had been too fast and their words had sounded too mechanical, too automatic for them. They had said good night and shared a quick hug, both wishing to go to their rooms to wash the day away.

The second day had been slightly better.

Slightly.

The hug at the end of the day had lasted two seconds longer.

On the third day, Raven had had enough of this not so innocent game her two stupid companions were playing. In the morning, she pretended to feel a little sick and told Clarke she would stay at the hotel for a few more hours.

Clarke had tried to stay with her, but when Lexa had arrived to knock at their door, the blonde had been promptly kicked out of the room, Raven yelling she was perfectly able to take care of herself. She slammed the door to Clarke's widened eyes.

After the usual 'good morning' speech, a shy looking Lexa lead Clarke outside the lobby and they stepped outside, already feeling the heat despite the early hours of the morning. To anyone else, they would have looked like five years old kids interacting with each other for the first time. The two women smiled and pushed away the awkwardness as they started walking toward their destination of the day.

They both were vividly aware of the fact that it was their first time alone since that one night in Montreal, months ago. Too many things had happened between them since then, and the weight of it all threatened to crash upon them anytime now. They felt it in their bones. Today would be the day they would suffocate to death unless they let the pressure out.

True to herself, Raven immediately left the room when she saw them leaving the hotel and started spying on them, her two hands texting quickly the progress to Octavia, who remained wide awake back in California.

The absence of the third traveler seemed to influence their interactions at light speed. So fast, that Raven, observing from a few meters behind, wondered when she had transformed to a third wheel for her best friend.

As if the past two days hadn't happened, both women chatted loudly as they walked on Roxas Boulevard, enjoying the superb view they had on Manila Bay.

"Would you like some snack?" Clarke asked as they passed by diverse stands from independent small vendors.

"No, thank you," Lexa answered as she glanced at dozens of children whose clothes made it doubtless that they lived on the streets, "I wish I could encourage them somehow."

"It's a radical change from Japan, I guess." Clarke said, remembering the latest destination of her friend.

"There were as many vending machines in the streets of Japan as there are children asking for money here. And I gave those machines more money than I would give those children," Lexa murmured to herself.

Even for Clarke, who had visited the lost cities of some African territories, Metro Manila was a whole distinct world itself. An imperfect corrupted balance between the rich and poor governed the streets. One district could be made of tall skyscrapers and money flying out the window while the adjacent neighborhood was made of cardboard boxes and little hands asking for a few cents.

It was the messy collision between all layers of society.

Manila was the home of a sea of people all different from each other. Families were stopping people in the streets with a stand filled with snacks of all kind, selling water bottles to the drivers when cars were stopped at red lights. Men walked in suit, talking quickly to their cellphones, sealing a few deals while crossing the streets when car zig-zagged around them. Kids ran across the streets despite the red lights, tricking tourists with their big eyes and poor looks.

Everyone seemed to be ignoring each other, and yet, everyone seemed to be cooperating to survive under poorer conditions. Clarke and Lexa could feel in the air that individualism was not the main ideology here. Take the money away and cooperation became the best way to survive.

The streets were more dirty than the opposite and the cacophony of the cars, buses, colorful jeepneys, a specific mode of transportation to this country, and taxis all fighting to be the fastest made Lexa a bit dizzy. It was impressive to see bikes circulating amongst them, breaking every possible traffic laws both women had ever known. Walkers didn't seem to care one bit if they were about to be hit by a vehicle. It seemed that this disorder was made of an imperceptible order to their American eyes. Stray animals wandered everywhere, sometimes looking for a master, sometimes minding their own business.

Wherever both women focused their eyes on, they saw crosses and symbols of the strong omnipresent Christian and conservative beliefs in this country. They listened to people speaking of God even when they were simply passing by. They heard the bells of churches and the whispered prayers. They smelled gas and garbage. They were greeted by many civilians who recognized them as tourists.

They weren't sure whether these overly welcoming greetings were made of friendship toward visitors or simply because they seemed to be rich.

The view of the ocean was beautiful and despite the stinky pollution, a breeze of fresh air continuously made its way to their lungs. They walked on the huge boulevard for a long time, passing by the Embassy of the USA, before stopping for a small break at Rizal park, a historical green area.

"Why did we decide to meet here, it's suffocating and it's not even eleven in the morning," Clarke asked as she swiped a few drops of sweat from her forehead.

"You were in India whereas I was in Japan. We had to choose a common middle."

"Russia was a good middle. Colder."

Lexa looked at Clarke a second before her left eyebrow rose slightly as she suspiciously questioned the blonde.

"Russia? Really?"

They were both well aware of the challenges they would have faced in Russia if they displayed their sexuality too openly for unknown eyes.

"What? You think you're too good for Russia? What about North Korea?"

Lexa rolled her eyes at Clarke's innocent tone.

"North Korea would have eaten us alive."

"You would have protected me," Clarke joked as she bumped her shoulder to Lexa's.

"You would be right."

The tone was dead serious and it sounded like a promise. Clarke wondered if Lexa's words would always sound so good in her ear. She wondered if Lexa's secret promises would always be kept.

She hoped so.

She didn't know what to offer Lexa in exchange.

She didn't know yet that Lexa would never ask for anything from her.

"Anyway, it's better that way. They speak English here," Clarke said after a few seconds of silence. "I can't wait to go the beach."

It was a simple conversation without any purpose, but it made them feel comfortable to be together again. It was casual and it was safe. It was the conversation that would not lead to the skeletons in their closets.

It wasn't loaded with unspoken emotions. Not yet.

But they felt the charge of feelings behind the words.

They had felt it the moment they had turned their eyes off their screen to focus on the live person standing in front of them.

"I'd have to agree with you on that. May I offer you something to eat?"

Lexa pointed to the many stands on which fresh cut mangos were on sale.

"I would thank you for the rest of my life."

Lexa chuckled and paid for the flower shaped mango.

"You give me flowers already, you better not have expectations," Clarke said playfully, testing the boundaries of their safe subjects.

"I do. You owe me gratitude for the rest of your life, I will remember that," Lexa replied.

Clarke nodded and took a bite of the slightly sourer taste than the one that characterized the same fruit back to her homeland. The cold juice made her moan from relief and gave her back the energy she didn't know she had lost.

"That means you're stuck with me for the rest of your life," the blonde said between two bites.

There was no hesitation in Lexa's tone when she answered:

"That causes no problem for me."

A smile was exchanged as the memories of messages exchanged under the moonlight came back to their mind.

Another moment passed during which they remembered every single word they said and every single meaning those letters really conveyed.

Another silence filled the air.

It was broken when they walked by a piece of art that represented the relief map of the islands of the Philippines floating on water. Every tiny bit of land was represented and Clarke took pictures from all possible angles to make sure she didn't miss anything.

Unknowingly to them, Raven was also taking pictures of the duo from all possible angles to make sure she didn't miss anything. Each picture was carefully saved and sent to Octavia, who then sent back many theories of what Clarke and Lexa were actually talking about. It went from aliens' invasions to weddings plans, passing by apocalyptic scenarios and tragic love stories.

It was a perfect distraction from boredom and Raven almost walked into a tree way too many times to have any dignity left.

The weather was perfect for them to wander endlessly between the green areas and the many vendors. The many flags of the country around the Rizal Monument in memory of a famous nationalist reminded them of how far from home they truly were.

Clarke took many pictures of Lexa when she thought the taller woman wasn't looking.

Lexa took many pictures of Clarke when she thought the smaller woman wasn't looking.

When they caught each other, they both pretended to be mad and offended before laughing quietly and snapping a few pictures with the two of them.

It always felt better when they had an excuse to stand closer and they took more pictures than necessary. Every picture had them standing a little closer to one another until space became a foreign concept to them.

"Did you know that Rizal is the name of a national hero?" Lexa asked as they explored the park.

She didn't wait for Clarke's answer as she started to explain the history behind the park's name and its symbolism to the community. She was passionate about cultural and historical aspects. The way she shared it with Clarke made it impossible for the blonde to not be captivated as well, from the way Lexa's voice resonated with joy and pride to the way emerald eyes shone as she spoke.

Clarke didn't even try to show how hilarious she thought it was that Lexa knew so much about the country they were visiting. She smiled widely at Lexa's antics, the way she moved her hands to express herself, the way she widened her eyes whenever she remembered a detail that she just HAD to share, the way the tone of her voice fluctuated according to her enthusiasm.

The artist noticed all of the little things that Lexa did when she was in love with a subject and made sure to remember all of them. It was so much more than simply reading a few words on her phone and Clarke already never wanted this day to end.

Unlike their first meeting, they had carefully planned this one. They would have about ten days. It was an eternity compared to their little twenty-four-hour window back in Canada. It was perfect for them to learn to know each other the way they wished to. It was the forever that allowed them to ignore the fact that another separation was waiting for them at the arrival line.

Clarke couldn't help but notice the absence of the ache in her heart. The pain she felt whenever she had messaged Lexa in the past weeks, longing for more than a simple virtual encounter, was completely gone.

She didn't feel pain anymore because she had no reason to. Lexa was standing before her and talking passionately with stars in her eyes. Lexa was within Clarke's reach. Lexa was real and everything Clarke felt was extremely raw and painless. Lexa's presence was Clarke's dream come true.

She had never felt more free and judging by the sparks in Lexa's eyes, they both felt the same.

Reunited.

Reacquainted.

Together.

"You're kind of a nerd, you know that?" Clarke asked with a mocking smile when Lexa finished telling her the detailed history of the country. "A cute nerd, but still, a nerd."

"Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke." Lexa answered with a tone that was way too serious for Clarke's taste.

"You realize how boring life would be without mockery, right?"

"I realize how pragmatic it would be."

"And boring."

"Clarke."

"Lexa."

It had happened a few times the two previous days. They would end a conversation by saying each other's name. They would say it once, clearly, preciously. They would say each other's name like it was a song they could play on repeat for the rest of their lives. They would listen to the other's voice saying their name as if no one in this reality would ever be able to give it as much respect. They would hear a story behind the name.

They would hear the way their name was owned by the other.

They would gift their name to the other.

They would make the world learn and remember this name.

Lexa blinked emotionless at Clarke's behavior as a tiny smile made its way to her face.

"Don't worry, I like your nerd side."

Clarke skipped ahead of Lexa for a few minutes, wanting to avoid the awkwardness that was sure to follow her declaration. But Lexa could only smile and try to calm the flutter of her heart.

Those small moments when they would let their souls speak freely with words loaded with innuendos were way too frequent to be unintentional. Many of them were followed by a small silence, never long enough to actually give them time to truly think about the implications of the spoken words.

They stopped for a quick lunch at the local popular fast food chain, Jollibee, and both had fried chicken with a plate of spaghetti. It was extremely unusual and they struggled with the use of a spoon rather than a knife, but they left with their appetite satisfied.

Raven waited until they left before entering the restaurant and grabbing a quick bite before rushing outside, only to realize she'd lost their track. A quick text to her best friend confirmed that the duo was well and alive, and in direction of Intramuros. The mechanic student groaned at this.

Clarke had promised her they would visit the popular walled city within Manila together, but apparently, Lexa had insisted they saw it today since they were in proximity. And knowing how whipped her best friend could be, Raven was not surprised at all to hear the blonde was following Lexa like a lost puppy.

It was no secret that Lexa was a history junky. Raven had had her share of stories about the historical past of the countries she and Clarke had visited, thanks to Lexa's messages.

Intramuros was the historical destination of excellence for whoever stopped in Manila. Originally constructed by the Spanish Empire, it was the oldest district of the city and protected in its heart the cathedral of Manila, countless churches and many well-known schools. It had survived the violence of World war two and the tantrum of Mother Nature. The impressive walls guarded what was left of this city.

They made a long detour to enter Intramuros by its citadel, Fort Santiago, a majestic gate made from stone welcoming them from above. Everywhere inside made them feel like they had travelled back in time, from the stoned buildings to the ancient cannons ready to fire at the enemies, to the luxurious floral diversity. It couldn't be compared to anything in the world and suddenly, they were both aware of how ephemeral their lives were. The beauty of the old architecture left both women speechless.

It was a place marked by war and blood baths, and yet, walking in the empty streets surrounded by flowers and carriages, they both felt like they were filming a cliché romantic movie.

It was a place that time, after it had witnessed thousands of deaths and prisoners being tortured, no longer controlled.

Clarke started pretending that the planet had stopped moving, allowing them to finally feel like they truly were in the same time zone, in the same reality. They remained in their own little universe, where only the two of them could exist and interact.

"It's gorgeous," Clarke declared as they entered a particular area in which a giant fountain played a gentle natural melody to their ears.

Lexa had her eyes glued on Clarke's silhouette walking a few steps ahead. She barely heard the words, only nodding to herself when her brain registered them.

Green eyes had a hard time to detach themselves from observing the blonde woman, and Lexa started realizing it would probably never be easy.

The sun was high above and the trees' shadows transformed the cemented ground to a mosaic of forms of all sorts dancing along the quiet breeze. Even the distant sound of motorbikes couldn't disturb the peace as they sat on a bench to find shelter under the shadow of a large tree.

They sat a little too close and the touch of their thighs burned them more than the blazing sunrays. They hesitantly moved away from each other as their lungs expanded from every shaky breath they exhaled. The air here was cleaner than amongst the cars and they found relief in the sound of the water splashing against the edges of the fountain.

"Thank you."

Lexa's voice shattered the quietness and Clarke focused her blue eyes on the woman watching straight ahead.

"What for?" Clarke asked, almost afraid to ruin whatever trance Lexa seemed to be in.

"For being here."

Clarke frowned a little at the formal tone of voice.

"I was kidding, when I said Russia was better, you know?" She chuckled lightly.

"I know. I was not thanking you for being here in this city. I am grateful to have you by my side. Thank you for being here, with me."

"You don't have to thank me."

Lexa nodded.

"I want to."

She took a deep breath,

"Thank you for being here despite the outcome."

Clarke swallowed the sudden burst of emotions in her throat. The blonde was way too aware of the outcome. It was constantly in her mind, no matter how hard she fought her thoughts. It was a countdown shadowing her every move and thought.

Another departure. Another ending. Another farewell.

It had been an important aspect of their recent conversations when they had planned their meeting. Lexa had specifically warned Clarke that their routes would separate again that they would ultimately say goodbye. The taller woman had insisted on how her journey was not over. She had asked the blonde to think about it, to really think about it.

The only question was whether or not the ache of another goodbye was worth the joy of another meeting.

Clarke had remembered how she felt after they had walked away from each other the first time. The pain, the sadness, the loneliness, the despair, the feeling of walking away from a vital part of herself. The feeling of leaving behind one of the reasons responsible for the beating of her heart. The feeling of dying without ever seeing the end. The feeling of going through a ruthless heartbreak despite the absence of relationship.

And Clarke had hesitated. The bond she had formed with Lexa while being separated by miles had only deepened, and she feared how profound it could get once they would be standing in front of each other. She feared she would not be able to go through another goodbye.

And sitting there, next to Lexa and embraced by the best feelings in the world, Clarke understood why Lexa had asked her if their meeting would be worth it. She could physically see the pain waiting to jump on them and trap them in darkness. No matter how deep their bond was, if they didn't handle it carefully, another goodbye could ruin them, and both women loathed this idea.

She had agreed to meet Lexa.

She would not trade her happiness for the absence of pain. It was not how she wanted to live.

She would not trade Lexa's presence for anything.

"Don't be so serious," the blonde lightly hit Lexa's shoulder, "you're ruining the mood."

She hid the heaviness of the subject under a layer of playfulness in her eyes. She hid her discomfort under a smile. She hid her blooming pain under a lighter tone of voice.

"I can't help it," Lexa shrugged. "I grew up being serious."

"Costia?"

Lexa nodded. Optimism was not her strong suit.

Clarke let out a tiny sigh. She had no idea when she would be ready to tell Lexa about the connection between Wells and Costia, but she knew it wouldn't be today. They were surrounded by dark clouds and right now, she wanted to enjoy the cloudless circle above them, just for a moment, just for a few days.

"I hear you."

Clarke needed Lexa to know her thoughts were not ignored, that her feelings mattered, that it didn't matter how serious she was right now. Clarke needed Lexa to know it wasn't a crime to feel this way, that it was allowed and that she would heal eventually.

She wanted to clear the atmosphere of all those subjects they were scared to talk about, of all those unspoken words they had yet to say, of all those secrets they needed to disclose. She wanted the air to stop being so heavy on their heads, to stop suffocating them whenever they tried to take a breath. She wanted to pretend that everything was great and not stumble whenever she tried to take a step forward.

She wanted to give Lexa the pause she deserved, the peace of mind she was chasing without ever being able to catch it. She wanted to be the calm in Lexa's stormy life. She wanted to be the heavy pouring rain when Lexa's life was burning to ashes. She wanted to be the solid ground that would keep Lexa from falling between the cracks when an earthquake tore the ground apart.

Ocean eyes seemed to carry hope and joy in them when they met their green homologue. They stayed focused on each other for a long minute, both reading into the other's soul, until Clarke stood up and offered her hand to Lexa.

"Don't be so serious," she repeated as she pulled Lexa up, never breaking eye contact, "don't you see where we are? It's another world. There's no goodbye here. Feel it."

Clarke didn't want to think about leaving Lexa. She found refuge in her imagination, a technique she had mastered after the tragedies in her life. She found refuge in a world she could fully control, fully draw, using the sharpened tip of her soul. She welcomed Lexa in her story. She built her a home, a family, a happy ending.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Lexa asked, half serious, half playing the game.

"Play along. Just for today. I'm telling you, there's no goodbye and it feels so much better. Don't you believe me?"

Lexa was unable to prevent the smile from appearing.

She would believe anything Clarke said and maybe that was the problem. Clarke could tell her anything, could murmur new truths, and Lexa would be restlessly pulled along into the blonde's world.

The artist felt her mind being overwhelmed by the idea that they had broken the law of physics and joined a safe haven. They weren't in Manila anymore. They weren't on earth anymore. They weren't prisoners of the notion of time and space anymore. They weren't under the illusion of being free while being forced to act in a certain way. They were completely free.

Maybe they were part of a civilization that had gone extinct a hundred years ago and they were the sole survivors. Maybe that was why they felt isolated from the rest of the world, their stories diverging from what people would consider normal.

Maybe they were from the future and had a hard time adapting to this reality. Maybe they came from a place where everyone met virtually, where personality finally became the main factor people focused on rather than looks and assumptions.

Clarke felt her body vibrating through Lexa's hand secured in hers. She pulled Lexa close and started skipping across Intramuros, pointing to diverse monuments, sharing tales of the grandiose fate that brought them together. She made words became reality and transformed historic monuments into the present's witnesses of their great story.

She led Lexa through a maze of possibilities, giving her a taste of each of them before focusing on the greatest one. She guided Lexa through every letter, every word, every sentence of their written alternative fate.

"We met here," Clarke said when they passed by an empty field with a single circle made of rocks in its middle. "and we started by being enemies. See that mark on the ground? We met there. What next?"

Lexa frowned. She had no idea. Her rational side screamed that there was nothing next, that it was only a fragment of Clarke's imagination, that it was nothing but grass and a few rocks. What did Clarke expect her to say? What if Clarke didn't like her ideas? What if Clarke realized how impossible it was for Lexa to ever leave this reality she was trapped in, as if Costia's death was the chains that kept her locked to this world?

"I could never be your enemy."

Lexa heard her own words and nodded at herself. Clarke could never be the enemy. Even if she tried to think about it, Clarke was not the enemy. Not in this life, not in the next.

Could Clarke be considered the enemy if she had the power to break Lexa's heart?

Even Lexa couldn't answer this question.

Clarke squeezed Lexa's hand.

"Pretend."

Lexa concentrated on finding a credible development to Clarke's introduction, only to feel the blonde's hand squeeze hers again.

"Don't think. Just feel it. Just say what's on your mind."

Lexa tried to let her mind wander, just like Clarke was teaching her to. She stared at the person she didn't quite consider like a normal friend and ideas filled her mind like fireworks illuminated the sky on the fourth of July. The light in Clarke's eyes pushed Lexa to a direction she wasn't sure she wanted to explore, but she did anyway.

"You fell from the sky," Lexa whispered, her attention captured by Clarke's presence, by the color of her eyes that inspired her so much in times where hope was nowhere to be found. "You fell from the sky and I was from the ground. We came from opposite worlds and the only possibility was for us to be enemies."

"And you ruled the ground. You governed the land of trees and nature. You didn't want the stars to steal your place," Clarke continued, encouraging Lexa as they walked through every hidden corner of the ancient city.

They discovered sculptures of the past presidents of the country and shivered when they read their stories. They climbed walls and endless stairs, and sneaked into rooms that were supposed to be locked for visitors. They almost locked themselves in a humid cell when the door made of heavy metallic bars refused to open.

"We were at war," Lexa said as she found inspiration in Intramuros' past. "You had your people to protect and I had mine, and we could not survive both. We sent our warriors to fight and we met when it went too far. We were the leaders."

"At first," Clarke corrected as she tried to push the door open, "we were at war. But I don't think we would have stayed like this. We got locked in a cell like this one. We had to be civilized and cooperate if we wanted to survive. We were under attack."

"By a gorilla. A mutated gorilla."

Clarke laughed out loud, breaking the tense atmosphere made by their incapacity to leave the cell. It felt incredibly good to be able to laugh until her ribs hurt.

"What?"

"Play along, Clarke," Lexa smirked. "Anything can happen."

The blonde scoffed at Lexa's playful look. She vaguely remembered their first conversation and Octavia's answer, promising to eradicate gorillas from the planet. She liked that Lexa remembered it. She loved that Lexa remembered.

"I thought mockery was not the product of a strong mind?"

"I don't recall saying anything about me having a strong mind."

Clarke narrowed her eyes, a giant smile still in her face as she slowly shook her head in disbelief.

"Fine, a gorilla. Then what?"

Lexa moved to help Clarke push the door and noticed marks in the stones, as if this room had been the place of a raging fight.

"We were locked in this room to figure a course of action," the green eyed woman said. "We had the opportunity to discuss our respective worlds and we helped each other. I had a sword. You could only use a gun."

"And we beat that animal. We locked it in here and we ran."

"We did. And we came back stronger from this encounter. We made peace. We signed an alliance. Our worlds were no longer at war, but we still had our differences."

Clarke nodded as they finally managed to open the heavy door. They exited the creepy cell as fast as they could and bumped into a group of tourists. They apologized quickly and took off, laughing.

"We had different cultures," Clarke continued. "Your people hunted for food and used swords and arrows. You lived in that big ancient building. You probably had to light it up with candles or something. I don't think there was electricity as this time."

She pointed to a tall tower made of giant rocks. It stood in the middle of Intramuros, its walls half fallen down. It was huge and Clarke had no difficulty imagining Lexa looking over the world from above, taking shit from no one.

She imagined a version of Lexa that had been marked by the absence of childhood, forced to lead her people at young age. She imagined Lexa standing at the edge of the world, barking orders while being respected by all. She imaged Lexa having control over her life and choosing to do what was right rather than what she desired, because Lexa would be the kind of leader to care about her people first.

She pictured Lexa, invincible.

And she thought that this version of Lexa was not so far from the real one.

"And as yours came from space, you must have lived in a futuristic place built on our ground," Lexa said as they climbed a wall bordered by old canons. "You took the place you needed without ever asking for more. You protected yourself with guns and had a different approach to violence than we did."

She imagined a version of Clarke falling from the universe, burning like a shooting star as she'd fall into the atmosphere. She felt the wave from Clarke's landing right through her bones. She imagined Clarke's people, stealing places and declaring a war neither side really wanted to participate in.

She imagined Clarke having to face challenges for the first time, acquainting with death and all of its friends, sorrow, sadness, shame. She imagined a young woman forced to become a leader. She knew Clarke would have been a kind leader, one that respected her enemies and one that would probably be devastated by death. She imagined Clarke holding the world on her shoulders, bending until she couldn't breathe, but never breaking.

She pictured Clarke, resilient.

And she thought that Clarke would never break, not in this reality or the next.

"In the end, we would make peace. We would have fights, of course, because we would be fundamentally different, but we would have worked it out. I don't believe I could ever be against you even in another reality," Clarke said. "We would have made it work."

"Made what work?"

"The alliance."

Unspoken words filled the air as they sat on the top of the wall, facing the outside of Intramuros, looking at the skyline while the sky turned a light taint of orange. The afternoon had flown away without them ever realizing it.

"Only the alliance?" Lexa couldn't help but ask.

"What do you have in mind?" Clarke questioned, knowing too well what Lexa thought.

Another tale, parallel to the main one. All great stories had them. Two opposite worlds attracted to each other. Clarke would not fall from the sky only to declare war to Lexa. And Lexa would not make an alliance with Clarke only because it was the right thing. It didn't make sense that nothing more would happen, just like it didn't make sense for them to be acting as friends right now.

It could never be that simple, and in their minds, the story did not end this way.

"A love story."

The words were barely audible but Clarke heard them loud and clear, as if lightning was making the world fall apart around them.

Lexa held her breath. She had said too much. Or maybe not enough. She wasn't sure. She wanted to say so much more, but she was afraid she would ruin it. She wanted to keep her mouth shut but she was afraid she'd regret it.

She glanced at Clarke. The blonde was already looking at her.

"A love story?"

Clarke's voice was small, as if she wasn't sure she had heard right.

The memories of nights spent wishing they could be more than virtual contacts embraced them from all sides. They couldn't deny it anymore.

How could they deny something that made them feel so incredibly alive?

The missing words that they so desperately wanted to say floated around them, begging them to speak out.

"Tell me."

Clarke's voice almost begged.

And Lexa could never say no.

"I imagine there would be a love story between the two leaders, because it is inevitable. In times of war are born the greatest love stories, the ones everyone remembers, the ones everything aspires to. They would fall in love and they would learn to trust each other despite their differences. It would be a love story so magnificent that even death would not separate them."

Clarke remained speechless.

She was afraid to speak. Lexa's eyes on her were intensely burning her soul.

"It would transcend time and space. The sky and the ground. One cannot be without the other and yet they are meant to never be together. How beautifully tragic."

"They wouldn't die," Clarke interrupted. "Don't go there."

Lexa smiled like she had a secret she could not disclose.

"You are right. Death is not an option. They would always be together. That's what love stories are about. The immortality of love. I don't think they could ever leave each other."

Lexa almost added that she knew because it was the felt she felt about Clarke.

She never wanted to leave Clarke.

So no, in their tale, they would never die. They would immortally love each other.

Lexa found herself thankful Clarke didn't ask for more details.

"I believe my soul will live on. In this life. In the life we were talking about."

Clarke flinched at the words. She didn't expect this. But Lexa was looking at her with a look Clarke couldn't quite describe. Lexa was looking at her with a look Clarke didn't expect either.

"I believe my spirit will move on when the time comes. It will live."

"I don't understand."

Clarke wasn't a very spiritual person. She had no major opinion on spirits, on soul, on life after death or paranormal activity. She didn't deny the possibility, but she would not be the one to promote the phenomenon existed.

She didn't believe in the greater being. She didn't believe in religion. She didn't pray to a specific god or beg for forgiveness when she did something bad. She didn't ask for the key to paradise and she had sinned countless times according to the formal definition of what a sin was. Lexa's words made no sense to her.

Religion was born from the need people had to find explanation for the unknown. The greatest religions were born from books. There was always a person behind it, but the written words were sometimes taken so literally that Clarke refused to believe they represented the world she lived in. While it could give people hope, religion was too often used as an excuse to justify atrocious behavior. Clarke simply couldn't rely on it and some rituals creeped her out.

Some would argue there were too many disasters in this world for a God to exist. Some would say that God would not wait after a crime had been committed to judge, but would rather stop the person before they committed it. Some would reply that without pain, there'd be no joy, that humans were imperfect creatures. Some would say that pain could exist without war murdering millions of innocents. Some would say that not believing in a god implicitly meant accepting the possibility that he could exist. The battle of arguments never seemed to end.

She respected the people who believed and she would not invalidate their feelings unless absolutely needed. She loved this country so far, but she could never imagine herself living in a place where religion and the state were not separated.

"What I mean is, what if it was true? The things we are imagining, the events, the characters, what if they all happened an eternity ago? What if the soul truly can reincarnate? You've heard of legendary stories that only happen once every century. Perhaps they are related. I know it makes no sense, and I apologize if you find me irrelevant, but I like to believe there is more to our story."

Clarke nodded, only understanding half of what Lexa was saying.

"My spirit would choose wisely," Lexa said. "Some things are meant to be, don't you think?"

Clarke could only agree. Some things were meant to be.

Clarke didn't believe in those things, in karma, in astrology, in fate, in miracles.

She believed in exceptions, in one-in-a-lifetime event, in things impossible to explain for the moment.

She believed Lexa had the capacity to make atheists pray to God and believers pray to go to Hell.

The sun slowly continued its descent in the sky as they sat there, thinking, their hands never separating. They could feel eyes on them, but not a word was thrown in their direction. Clarke thought about Lexa's words, turning them around in her head, trying to find a way she could accept them as a possible theory.

Lexa kept repeating the story in her head, how great it felt to imagine another reality. She imagined a thousand different more, keeping them secret until Clarke would be ready to hear them.

"You know what the best part is?" Clarke asked and answered without waiting for an answer. "There's no goodbye. We would always be with each other."

A silence.

A heartbeat being skipped.

A lump in their throats.

A glimpse at the possibilities.

Two hands never letting go of each other.

"I love this story," Lexa whispered.

And suddenly, she loved so much more this life she was living in.

She never said those words, she never let those thoughts free. She was way too aware of where they were, in a well-known place, where too many people could see and judge, where too many people could hit and hurt, where too many people didn't know the difference between tolerance and acceptance, where too many people could kill in the name of their definition of love.

But in her head, in this other reality she was creating in her mind, they were not looking at each other anymore. They were not simply holding hands anymore. They were not facing each other in silence anymore.

In her head, they were sharing their dreams and admitting everything they never said. They were crossing boundaries and breaking free from the fear that held them down. They lived more than survived.

In her head, she had already moved closer and closer and closer until space didn't exist between them anymore. And she knew, simply by the way she had become an expert at reading Clarke's eyes, that the blonde thought the same.

* * *

Exhaustion was taking over her body as she followed the duo, her phone battery approaching the dreaded zero percent. She thought about going back to the hotel, but there was no way she would betray her promise to Octavia to watch over Clarke.

Raven felt the pain in her leg give her another shock as she difficulty made her way to the nearest table she could find that would keep her hidden from Clarke and Lexa. She had been walking all day and at this heat, the brace gave her an unusual amount of affliction.

She sat and exhaled the ache away as she stared at the duo standing on the balcony that led right to the bay. The view of the sea was amazing. The sun was slowly moving away from their sight and the red and orange glows gifted the place with a surreal look. It didn't mean the popular Mall of Asia was empty, far from it.

The Mall of Asia was one of the largest shopping centers and it lived up to its reputation as hundreds of people still wandered in its halls despite the late hours. Raven still wondered how she had managed to not lose sight of the two stubborn friends.

"You still there?"

"No, I'm dead."

"You're not dead, O."

"I am, you can't see me, but I assure you, I am."

Octavia's voice was only a whisper from the other side of the globe as Raven tried to her best to keep her friend entertained. After texting for more than half the day, Octavia had declared she would be going to sleep. The day time in the Philippines equaled the middle of the night in California. It was now approaching nine o'clock in Manila and six o'clock in the morning in California.

The Blake woman had had no sleep as Raven had called her to prevent her from falling asleep, claiming she couldn't spy without her associate. They had been talking for nearly two hours and Raven already feared the amount of money she would have to pay.

"How come you're still talking?"

"I'm haunting you. I'm a ghost. You can't get rid of me. Remember that next time you have the urge to have sex with someone."

"Gross. And I'll let you know that I have awesome sex moves. You'd just end up being a horny ghost."

Raven watched as Clarke pulled Lexa closer. Even at this distance, she could see how much Clarke cared about Lexa.

It wasn't because of the big gestures like people saw in the movies or in proposals. It was in all the little ways Clarke made sure Lexa had the time of her life.

It was in the way whenever Clarke opened her mouth, Lexa's eyes filled with stars.

Clarke already knew what to say to receive the brightest smile in return.

It was in the way Clarke's smile mirrored Lexa's eternal one.

It was in the way they looked at each other sometimes a bit too long for them to be just friends.

It was in the way Lexa pushed the crowd away when they surrounded Clarke from too close.

Lexa already knew Clarke hated being trapped by crowds.

It was in the way Clarke had let Lexa choose the restaurant.

It was in the way Lexa had answered by asking what Clarke's favorite meal was, and chose a restaurant according to the answer she had gotten.

Lexa had stocked this information in the Clarke's drawer in her brain. One of the most important ones.

It was in the way Clarke had announced she would pay for dinner.

It was in the way Lexa had waited until Clarke had gone to the bathroom to run to the counter to pay first.

It was in the way Clarke had opened the door for Lexa.

It was in the way Lexa had opened the next door for Clarke.

It was in the way they hadn't let go of each other's hand even when they played some arcade games.

It was in the way Clarke had asked Lexa for her favorite color and had started pointing out all the items of this color.

It was in the way Lexa pretended to look away and get lost in thought so that Clarke could take a picture she thought secretly.

It was in the way Clarke realized Lexa's deception, but let it pass because Lexa seemed so proud of herself.

Raven could feel their feelings radiating and contaminating the entire mall.

"They're so stubborn. They're still holding hands," Raven said as she sipped a little of her iced coffee. "But they're doing nothing! There's a movie theater here and they didn't go in. They didn't buy anything. They didn't take more pictures than I did. They're only talking and I'm too far to hear anything detailed. They're acting like an old married couple but sometimes they won't look at each other in the eyes for more than a few seconds. They're acting like elementary school kids!"

"You're so stubborn, you don't need me to spy them and you won't hang up."

"I could say the same about you."

All Raven had for answer was a yawn.

The mechanic student yawned as well. She had the day in her body and all she wanted was to call the cab and go to the hotel.

"I might be as dead as you are," she announced.

"Welcome to the dark side. I would offer you cookies or something but can I go to sleep?"

"Get some rest. I'll call you later."

Raven was about to follow her own advice before falling asleep at her table when she noticed the way Clarke stood next to Lexa.

Her head was resting on Lexa's shoulder as they both stared at the ocean, a light breeze caressing their relaxed features. Lexa was casually leaning on the gate that prevented her from falling into the water as Clarke leaned against her. They still had their fingers intertwined, but the proximity of their bodies made it hard for anyone to see it. They stood there, side by side with the sunset on the horizon.

Alone together.

Lexa turned her head only a few degrees toward Clarke at the exact moment Raven took a picture from behind. Lexa's profile showed a caring smile as she told the blonde something only the two of them could hear. A single sunray crossed the picture diagonally, giving the scene a warm atmosphere that illustrated perfectly how both women felt.

A few trees gave the picture more colors, and with the ocean visible in the background, the picture resembled the most romantic image one could find. It didn't matter how many pictures Raven had taken today. This one, this small frame showed everything.

Raven chuckled. She would tease Clarke for the rest of their lives.

She sent the picture to Octavia.

"I have a feeling Lexa will be around for a while," she wrote.

Her screen turned black the moment the message was sent into the void.

* * *

They were silent on their ride home. Clarke had received Raven's late goodnight message only an hour ago. Her best friend claimed she felt better and ready to go back to explore the next morning.

Clarke had taught Lexa everything she could about Raven without disclosing private information. They had had a late night drink after their time on the balcony and they were barely able to keep their eyes open anymore.

"I had a great day," Lexa said.

Their hands were still connected and both felt that it was not enough anymore.

"I had an amazing day," Clarke confirmed. "I'm expecting you tomorrow."

The night was colder than they had expected and they shivered as they left the darkness to cross to the land of artificial lights. Lexa still had to go to her own place after, but there was no way she would let Clarke go home alone.

"I wish Wells was here to see this. He'd be proud of me, living like this," Clarke joked as they arrived at her hotel well in the middle of the night, tired, a bit tipsy, but incredibly happy.

Lexa stared at Clarke, really stared at her.

They had spent a perfect day. They had learned and laughed and lived life to the fullest for the first time in forever. They had discovered more about the other than they had hoped and it was far from over. They had allowed themselves to dream, to feel. Unconsciously, they had allowed themselves to love.

And they never wanted to go back to the way they were before.

But still, something was missing from their day. Something they couldn't do in public unless they wanted to face hate, unless they wanted to risk their day being ruined.

Lexa saw beyond the joke, beyond the teasing and the fake overly confident attitude. She drowned in the blue of her eyes and burned herself by stroking the golden beautiful hair of her muse. She felt incredibly alive. She didn't feel small anymore. She fell like she could take the world over. She felt like she truly had been the leader in a way before and she still had this fire in her veins, back stronger than ever.

She was slowly starting to discover what the true meaning of home was.

She couldn't quite put a word on it, but she knew it included Clarke.

Maybe all she needed to qualify a place as home was Clarke's presence. She silently wished it was that simple.

"He would be proud of your regardless of today." Lexa confessed. "I've watched Costia trying to survive all her life. When she died, I became the one constantly fighting for another breath. I've been trying to live for so long. I never knew how. And then, I met you. Clarke, you make me feel more alive than I've been in years."

Maybe it was too much to say only after one day of finally being comfortable around each other. Maybe not. Maybe it was only a tiny amount of everything Lexa would tell Clarke from now on.

The blonde smiled sadly at this.

Lexa made her feel more alive than she'd been for years as well.

But Lexa didn't know the whole truth and Clarke's heart silently reminded her.

"You're alive," Clarke reminded her. "but are you living?"

"I am now."

Clarke took a step closer.

They had been on survivor mode for so long that it had taken them months to learn how to live again.

"Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?"

They deserved so much more.

Clarke deserved so much more, and Lexa would reach into the skies and deep into the oceans if that would help.

"Maybe we do."

But Lexa knew it wasn't simply "maybe". They deserved better.

They deserved better than always having to fight for their happiness. They deserved better than always struggling to take another step forward. They deserved better than having to go through hell every time they laughed too hard, every moment they allowed themselves to believe in tomorrow. They deserved so much more and everything suddenly felt within her reach.

All she had to do what take a chance. All she had to do was fight the part of her that told her she didn't deserve anything anymore. She fought it. She tore the limits apart and dove right into the ocean of possibilities.

She leaned toward Clarke, her eyes silently asking permission to move closer. She found it in the form of a sparks disturbing the calm blue ocean. She found it in the way Clarke subtly moved closer too. She found it in the way there was nothing to stop them anymore.

Her lips barely brushed Clarke's and she could feel her heart ready to burst out of her chest, the nervousness surrounding every cell of her body. It took all her strength to remain in control of her breathing when she delicately pressed her lips to the softest ones she'd ever kissed. It was a fragile contact, as if they were both afraid that if they moved too fast, the day would disappear like a distant dream.

She could feel Clarke labored breathing on her cheek as the proximity drove her crazy and made her shiver for another reason than the cold weather. She could feel Clarke's intoxicating scent fill her lungs and she knew she never wanted to let go. She heard Clarke's quiet gasp when she moved a hand to cup the side of her face, slowly deepening their kiss. Only opening her eyes a fraction of seconds to make sure she was allowed to do so.

Clarke's burning look told her everything.

They stayed in the empty hallway, in front of Clarke's room, exchanging breaths, noses brushing against each other while quiet whimpers filled the air. Their eyes remained closed as they preciously memorized the taste of the other, engraving the feeling of their tongues sensually discovering each other, sometimes battling for dominance.

It was different than kisses from their past lovers.

There were no fireworks going off in the background, no earth-shattering feeling that their lives were about to change drastically. It wasn't like in the movies. There were no orchestra playing in the background and the sky was as black as could be outside.

But it was different.

It was the kind of difference that made them ask for more because they knew they would never have enough of it, they knew they could only be more addicted to these feelings.

And it was a kind of difference that Lexa wanted to drown in.

It was the kind of difference that Clarke wanted to get buried in.

It was the kind of difference between being alive and simply pretending to live.

* * *

 **Thanks a lot to everyone reading this.**


	9. The Golden Ship part 1

**Second relatively angst-free chapter because why not.**

 **Notice that this is never a good sign in fics.**

 **Thank you everyone for reading and commenting!**

* * *

 **The Golden Ship – part 1**

What are the costs? What are the benefits?

No matter how much people glorify relationships of all kinds, no matter how many times they portray them to romantic tales that transcend generations, it all comes back to one simple question.

Is the relationship worth it? In other words, are the benefits worth the costs?

It should be a simple yes or no question, but it's not. It's a "maybe" question. It's an eternal war between head and heart. The answer is constantly changing, evolving, following the natural ups and downs life throws at a couple.

When a relationship starts, that 'maybe' fades and becomes a yes. The 'maybe' option becomes invisible and only reappears at a serious fight between the two parties. It's a 'maybe' that is kept preciously as an escape plan if things get too hard.

When people answer yes to 'is it worth it?', they sign an implicit contract. They agree to be with the other person, but within conditions. They agree to the positive outcome, but also to the negative aspects. Somewhere in one page of the contract, written in tiny letters, is the sentence 'happiness is not guarantee.' People sign this contact and often forget about it, about the risks implied.

The risk of being betrayed, of being left behind, of facing death. The risk of suffering. It is something people aren't always fully aware of, but the risks are real and unexpected.

Knowing someone, really knowing them and allowing them into their lives means accepting the risk of being possibly hurt in the future. It's saying 'yes' to the happiness but also to the pain. It's saying 'yes' to all the possibilities.

It means 'welcome to my life, please don't leave.'

It means 'I care about you.'

At some point, it means 'I would rather be blessed with a single day in your presence and go through years of pain afterwards, than go through life without being able to see you at all.'

It means 'torture me, you're worth the pain.'

* * *

Three days went by. Three days during which they fully embraced their relationship. Three days during which they admitted the obvious truth a million times to each other. Three days during which they discovered the city while memorizing as much as they could about their other half.

Three days. They had moved too fast and too slow at the same time.

Three days that had allowed them to fall into the arms of love rather than avoid them. And they wondered why they ever ran from its embrace in the first place because it felt so amazingly perfect.

There was something about Clarke.

Something that made Lexa's heart inevitably skip a beat, that made Lexa's breath catch in her lungs, that made Lexa's steady posture tremble from invisible earthquakes. It was the element that completed her, that made her whole. It was the way Clarke moved, in harmony with Lexa, the way Clarke spoke, answering to Lexa's silent questions, the way Clarke acted, in perfect synchronism with Lexa's actions.

It was magical, and it gave Lexa mythical powers. It was more than she had ever thought it would be.

She imagined Clarke's sleeping face and a smile found refuge on her lips.

The young woman felt overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility, one that equaled, even surpassed the one that had inhabited her when she had been with Costia.

Lexa wanted to build wonderful dreams for Clarke, so the blonde would never wake up with tears in her eyes.

She wanted to ask the moon to fill the entire night sky, so Clarke would never have to fear the deepest shade of black.

She wanted to beg the sun to burn every second of the day, so Clarke's smile would always be visible to the world.

She would invoke the quietest silence of them all, so Clarke's voice could be heard by all.

She would create new colors, so Clarke never ran out of them when she painted.

She would give Clarke everything she deserved and more.

She could feel the way she walked a little faster as she approached the hotel lobby. She could hear the way her heart was pumping blood in her body as if tomorrow didn't exist. She could still taste Clarke's lips on her own, but it was faded from the passage of the night and she couldn't wait to refresh her memory.

They only kissed behind closed doors. They weren't sure how it would be received by this community, but they wouldn't take any chances since they were only passing by. Their memories of this country were enchanted and they would give no chance to dark clouds to ever spoil them. They wanted to remember their visit here as the one that had taken everything they thought they knew about life and changed it completely for the best.

There was nothing complicated in the way Lexa saw things. Not anymore. It was simple. All she wanted was to spend more time with Clarke. All she wanted was to see Clarke. All she wanted was to give Clarke everything. All she wanted was to hear Clarke's voice, to feel her hand in hers, to bring their bodies closer together.

All she asked in return was for Clarke to allow her to do so.

Clarke did and Lexa was unbelievably happy.

The best part wasn't falling in love. The best part was having her love being returned. The best part was having the privilege to be chosen by Clarke. The best part was having Clarke look at her the way she did, as if Lexa was the heart of the entire universe, as if Lexa had inspired the word 'love' itself. The best part was Clarke.

Every night before she went to sleep, Lexa whispered to the emptiness that she loved Clarke. There was no answer but silence, but it freed her to say those words. She had yet to gather the courage to say them to the blonde artist, but it was only a matter of time. She already disclosed it to the world every night, every morning, every time Clarke crossed her mind. Those words were only a fraction of how she felt. They would never convey the depth of her feelings.

And maybe it was a good thing that words were not enough. Lexa feared if there was a way to express how deep her affection truly was, she would dull the definition of Love itself. She would put Love to shame. She wanted to create a new concept of love, a greater idea, one that could only apply to the way she cared uniquely about Clarke.

Lexa knocked lightly at the door and waited. It opened to a smiling Clarke still dressed in the shorts and oversized t-shirt she slept in. Like every morning since Lexa had started joining the duo of travelers to their room, they greeted each other with the same words.

"I missed you," Clarke whispered, drawing Lexa's features with her eyes.

"I missed you more."

Clarke closed the door behind them and motioned her hand to Raven's sleeping figure. Just like the three previous days, the young mechanic was still lost in the land of dreams. It wasn't her fault. Lexa always arrived at Clarke's door around six in the morning. The taller woman couldn't support the idea of wasting the limited time they had together just because she needed to rest. She would have plenty of time to sleep later.

"That's impossible," Clarke replied.

"And yet, it's true."

The blonde chuckled.

"Come here."

Her hand instinctively pressed Lexa's lower back to pull her closer as they shared a short but heartfelt kiss. They felt time slow down and respect their privacy, as it always did. They moved back the moment they started feeling their hands getting lost on each other's curves. They drowned in each other's eyes, the way they always did when words refused to come out and they had too much to say.

They glanced at Raven and a devilish look appeared in Clarke's blue eyes. She pressed a finger to her lips, asking for Lexa to be quiet. Clarke walked to the side of Raven's bed and quickly checked if her best friend was truly sleeping. Raven was lightly snoring and drooling, and Clarke grinned at Lexa who was rolling her eyes at the upcoming ritual.

The blonde took a few steps back before running and throwing herself on the bed in a fluid movement, crashing on top of Raven who moaned loudly in pain.

"I hate you," Raven groaned as she hit Clarke with the second pillow. "You're so dead once I recover from my concussion."

"I am so scared," Clarke deadpanned as she put her entire weight on Raven's body.

A muffled moan reached her ears.

"Shut up, Rae. Third time in three days, how did you not expect it?"

"There's a wonderful thing called sleep. It's amazing. You should try it. It works miracle on assholes."

Lexa let out a small laugh and Raven smirked with her eyes still closed.

"Tell you girlfriend to drag your ass out of my bed unless she wants me to have my way with you, and not in a sexual way."

Girlfriend.

Lexa was her girlfriend, officially, and goddam finally.

Clarke's smile could not be bigger even if she tried. She would never get used to hearing someone call Lexa her girlfriend. She would never be sick of it. In fact, she wanted to hear it over and over again. She wanted to say it over and over until they both got so sick of it that they would want to ban this word from their vocabulary.

She pushed Raven's head further in the pillow and joined Lexa's side. She felt like they were the two parents of a grumpy five years old and she laughed at the thought as Lexa threw her a questioning look.

The three women smiled at each other like they always did in the early hours. They only pretended to be mad. There was no reason for them to start an argument. Waking up with Clarke jumping on her didn't bother Raven one second. It only showed her how joyful Clarke was these days, and frankly, Raven wouldn't mind being woken up this way for the rest of her life. It seemed like forever since they had acted so carelessly.

Clarke winked and ran to the bathroom, yelling at Raven to get ready, as Lexa unlocked her phone to call Anya for their daily interaction. The taller woman left the room, like she did every morning after she had gotten her dose of an adorably sleepy Clarke, and dialed her friend's number while the two other girls got ready.

It was barely four in the afternoon on the other continent and Anya had no reason to ignore the call. The two women's interactions had considerably lessened after Lexa had focused all her mobile data on Clarke for the past few months. She had apologized to her friend, but did not regret it.

"You're late," Anya's voice greeted her.

"Good evening to you."

"You didn't call last night. I was worried."

"I was with Clarke."

The simple act of saying the blonde's name had a therapeutic effect on Lexa's behavior. Her whole posture relaxed and she leaned on the wall with a dreamy look as she listened to Anya babbling about how important it was to send her a signal of life at a regular occurrence.

"You're always with Clarke."

"I know."

Lexa muffled her laugh when she heard Anya sighing at the obvious explanation. Lexa couldn't help it. She wanted Anya to know she was with Clarke. She heard Anya move a few things around, which told her she was interrupting something. Anya would never tell her that. Their phone call would only end earlier than usual.

"And you know that I know. You're pathetic, I can hear the smile in your voice," her friend teased her.

If being in love was pathetic, then Lexa didn't mind beating records of pathetic-ness. She would be pathetically happy for as long as she could. She would be pathetically attracted by Clarke. She could be named queen of all that was pathetic in this life and she would gladly accept the crown.

"So it's serious then?" Anya asked with a slightly more serious tone.

Lexa nodded absently, pretending to think for a second when the answer had flashed through her mind in neon lights the second Anya had mentioned the question. It was serious. To Lexa, it truly was serious. She prayed that it was the same to Clarke, but somehow, she had no doubt about it.

"It is. Clarke is different. She's special. She elevates herself."

"Your voice is different. The way you talk about Clarke is different than a mere two days ago."

"I am different."

It was a fact. Lexa was changed. Clarke had changed her. She didn't know the depth of this change yet, but she could feel it playing with the very basic structure of her soul, as if only Clarke had to key to do so. She could feel the way she processed things differently, the way she wasn't scared of her feelings anymore.

Not living in constant fear tasted better than she remembered.

It made her feel like she wasn't standing all alone against the world anymore. It vibrated through her body, this mixture of strength and vulnerability, of being forced to look at her past in order to move on. She thought she could never feel as human as she did when she was with Clarke.

Lexa was forced to crawl through the messy place that was her head, confronting demons she had always been scared of until now, slaying parts of herself she no longer needed, burning walls she no longer trusted to protect her.

"Will you come back home after then?"

The question reached her from a million miles away and imprisoned her in an invisible cage.

"I can't answer that," she admitted in the quiet hallway.

"You're not different," Anya instantly answered.

"I am," Lexa protested. "It is different. I know I will meet her again if I don't come back now. I know I want to meet her again. I need to meet her again."

"She's a human being, Lex. Not someone willing to passively wait around until you make up your mind. She won't wait just because you want her to. You have no right to ask her something like that. Hell, you have no right to put her through something like that."

"I know."

"I'm happy for you, I really am, but don't act like you're above your feelings, like you need to prove yourself you can be a fully independent person only if you're alone. We all need someone."

And Lexa knew Anya was saying the truth. Lexa had this irrational belief that in order to be herself, to be independent and strong, she had to survive alone. It was stronger than her. She had belonged to someone once and it ended up destroying her. Clarke was making this belief slowly crumble every passing minute. Clarke made Lexa want to rely on someone else again.

Clarke was the person who made Lexa believe it was better to be with someone than to be alone.

Clarke was the person who made Lexa believe she would never be alone again.

Clarke was the person who made Lexa believe it was okay to fall in love again.

Clarke was the alarm that woke Lexa up whenever she was caught in a nightmare.

Clarke was the reason Lexa was pacing like a mad woman in an empty hallway when the world was trying to get a few more minutes of sleep.

"I don't regret falling in love with her."

There was a silent on the line. It was the first time Lexa said it to her friend, and it came as a surprise to the both of them.

It came even more as a surprise to Lexa. The green eyed woman was certain that if Clarke said those words to her right now, she might not be able to say them back. No. She was convinced she wouldn't say them back.

And yet, here she was, proclaiming them outside of her room.

"Hopefully you won't regret breaking her heart when it happens."

"I won't break her heart. Don't say that."

Lexa truly believed in her words.

"You better mean it. If you break her heart, you'll break your own too."

Lexa heard Anya's warning loud and clear and a part of her agreed. If she broke Clarke's heart, her own would not survive it.

The way she had trouble breathing when Clarke stood too close prevented her from ever wanting to know how she would feel if Clarke walked too far away.

"I care about her."

"I know you do. I hear it everyday. But just because you care about someone doesn't mean you'll never hurt them. Just because you care about someone doesn't mean you'll never be hurt. Just because you care about Clarke doesn't mean you're as invincible as you feel yourself to be."

Lexa thought it was truly tragic how the people one cared about the most were also targeted to be the people one could hurt the most. Lexa wished love didn't hurt. Something so beautiful shouldn't have to hurt. Something so special shouldn't be responsible for the greatest pain. What twisted aspect of love was it and how could she avoid it?

"I love her."

"Do you?"

Lexa nodded with conviction.

If there was one thing she was sure of right now, if she had to choose one truth to rely on, it was this one. If she could only choose one thing to say for the rest of her day, this was it.

She loved Clarke.

She loved Clarke like she had never loved anyone else before and even Costia's memory didn't change that.

She had needed to cross half the world to realize it, but she did.

"I do." Lexa's eyes filled with a softness Anya would have gasped over had she been there to witness it. "I love her. I need her. You don't understand how much I need her."

Anya's voice remained absent and Lexa's shoulder were freed from the confession she so wanted to share. Fighting it was useless.

"I don't think I've ever needed someone as much as I need Clarke," Lexa silently admitted to no one in particular.

Anya didn't answer right away. She let the words sink in. She let the words deliver their meaning. She let Lexa's confession exist in perfect harmony with the moment and savored it.

Lexa had never said this before. Not even about Costia. Not about any of her friends.

"Go tell Clarke. Don't stay here at the phone telling me things that I shouldn't be the first one to hear," Anya said after a few seconds.

A clicking sound made Lexa violently turn her head to the direction of Clarke and Raven's door. Raven's eyes were glued on her with an intensity that made her shiver, the door closed behind her.

"I have to go," Lexa said.

"Call me tomorrow and don't be late."

Lexa faced Raven, waiting for something to happen. She could feel the weight of her recent conversation hovering around them and swore in her head. She hadn't wanted Clarke's very best friend to hear that. And then again, she hadn't expected herself to pronounce those words, those secrets from the heart.

"Clarke will be ready in a few seconds. Did you mean that?" Raven asked with a raspy voice, traces of sleep still present in her eyes.

Lexa nodded. She couldn't speak. She feared Raven's reaction.

If one person in the world had power over their relationship, Lexa had no doubt it was Raven.

Lexa felt small, like a child caught doing something bad.

"Good."

The tension was so intense that Lexa was afraid she'd get stabbed if she moved in any direction as if invisible spears surrounded her. She remained immobile, eyes defying Raven's scrutiny. She remained immobile while her heart pumped blood with the energy of someone sprinting through a marathon.

Raven took a step forward. She stared at Lexa, reading into her. She didn't see everything, like only Clarke could, but she saw enough to nod once and move closer. She faced Lexa with determination in her eyes and a hint of sadness. She waited for Lexa to say something. When nothing came from the women with emerald eyes, she leaned closer, appreciating the way Lexa almost froze in place.

"She needs you too," Raven confessed in Lexa's ear.

Clarke stepped outside the room at this exact same time, ready to conquer the remaining of Metro Manila. A smile bloomed in her face as she linked her fingers through Lexa's.

* * *

Their last day in the city was scheduled to the minute. They would have fun. Just fun. Without dealing with the suffocating heat anymore. They would remain in a place with air conditioning and ice cream in proximity. They would head to the beach for the next three days afterwards. They had only finished visiting a quarter of what they were supposed to see that day when they jumped into a taxi.

And all it took was for Lexa to whisper a few words to Clarke to blow their plans completely.

"We're going to Makati," Clarke declared as Raven, who had already on mind that they were heading toward the Manila Ocean Park, narrowed her eyes at Lexa.

Makati, the business city of Manila, was the exact opposite of the sea life museum they were supposed to visit. It was full of grey buildings and people running against time, trying to make as many profits as they could before the end of the day. It was the popular rich district. The entertainment and shopping epicenters. It was beautiful, but not as breathtaking as being lost between phosphorescent aquariums full of jellyfishes.

"Why?" Raven asked.

"Because Lexa has an appointment… where?"

Lexa remained mute as she kept her secret preciously.

"Fine, but we'll have lunch before," Raven conceded suspiciously.

There was nothing she could say that would make Clarke change her mind, judging by the way her best friend only had eyes for the woman who had put the life back in her body.

The moment the taxi started to lead them to the Ayala Triangle Gardens, Lexa's hand gripped Clarke's almost painfully. Clarke did the same as the taxi driver raced through the streets as if it was perfectly normal to honk at every other car on their way for no apparent reason. It made abrupt turns, sending the three girls from one side of the car to the other as they collided painfully with the windows. They felt stuck in a video game with a bad player in control.

The driver changed line without using any flashing lights and they were almost hit by the car behind. He accelerated when the car in front of them changed line without using its flasher either. He slammed the break when a third car cut them without warning. The visitors strangely felt like this was a common way to defy death in this country, and they only wished they would not lose this challenge.

Clarke and Lexa never once released the other's hand from their torturous grips. For the first time since too long, they both came to the same realization. They didn't want to die. Not today, not tomorrow, not anytime soon. Especially not in a car crash barely a few days after they had found each other.

The ride to Makati City was barely fifteen minutes long, but it felt as if they were not under the influence of time. The driver was going as fast as he could, making everything around them spin out of control. It made the world around them disappear in a mess of flashing colors and unclear shapes. It put roller coasters to shame. But inside the vehicle, time was impossibly slow. Clarke focused her attention on Lexa's soft skin, and Lexa's eyes were once again held hostage in the sky.

Time could never be long enough for them to fully appreciate the little things that made them irresistibly drawn to each other.

They arrived, surprisingly, in one piece and alive at the Ayala Triangle Gardens and were welcomed by flowers and trees. It gave a fresh atmosphere to a city mainly ruled by smoke and pollution.

Raven immediately led them to an Italian restaurant. She had a sixth sense to find them miles away and she was never wrong about their quality. It took them less than ten minutes to be seated and to order their meals.

Only then did Raven realize that she had never felt more like a third wheel in her entire life.

She was sitting there, facing the booth on which Clarke and Lexa were trying their best to not get lost in each other's eyes once again. She was sitting right in front of them and she could physically feel the attraction between the other women. The waves around them even formed a pink bright shiny bubbly perfect heart around them and it made the young mechanic slightly want to throw up. If they were in a movie, she would probably be watching them running in a field of flowers with birds singing around them.

Clarke had gone from one extreme to another, from telling Raven to avoid being attached to anyone, to pursuing her own soulmate.

It was a wonder, Raven thought, how feelings could change someone so much that they could not be recognized anymore. It was as if the power of the heart surpassed any other one.

And yet, it was as if humanity kept trying to find ways to ignore feelings, to shut them down, to replace them, to minimize their impact. It was as if humanity didn't have humanity anymore, only fake definitions being thrown at everyone's face to hide the fact that they had no idea what feelings truly were.

But observing Clarke now, whose facial expression was reciprocated by Lexa, Raven felt like she saw what genuine feelings were supposed to look like. She felt privileged to witness this. She felt privileged to consider Clarke as her friend, and if Lexa was the chosen one, then Raven would not object.

She trusted Clarke to make the right choice.

She trusted Lexa to be the right choice.

She hoped Lexa was the right choice because if she wasn't, Clarke would be devastated, and Raven would end up in jail for murder.

"You two are ridiculously adorable," Raven mumbled to no one in particular.

And it was a good thing that she hadn't spoken directly to them. They didn't seem to be aware of anything but each other. It was as if they were distinct from the rest of the world. Clarke threw her an apologetic look but Raven dismissed it quickly.

She would not let Clarke apologize to be happy. Not today, not ever.

The meals arrived after a small fifteen minutes of useless conversations. A giant pizza for Raven, a fancy spaghetti plate for Clarke and a combination of the two for Lexa.

"Shit."

Clarke's head turned to Lexa so fast that she almost broke her neck when she heard the other woman cursing. Lexa never cursed.

"What? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? What do you need?" The blonde babbled as fast as she possibly could while Raven snickered.

"I'm fine. I didn't expect the plate to be burning hot."

She held her hand for Clarke to examine. A slight burn mark appeared, tainting her palm with a pale red color. It was nothing but Clarke's heart had jumped out of her chest at the hurtful tone. The artist only now began to understand just how much she cared about Lexa. So much more than she'd ever be able to comprehend.

"I'll just go put cold water on it."

"Here."

Clarke emptied half of glass of water on her napkin and wrapped it carefully around Lexa's hand.

"It's not much, but it will help. Tell me if it burns too much."

Lexa didn't know what burned more; the wound or Clarke's gentle touch.

Both were intense, but she would never be asking for more burnt marks. Clarke's touch, however, she could never get enough. Every passing day had her asking for more, requiring more to function, to live. Every time her eyes landed on Clarke's silhouette, she could feel the desire erupting in her mind, in her body. Every time they kissed, she had to resist the temptation to let her mouth wander to other mysterious places. Every time Clarke moaned in her mouth, Lexa wished she could elicit this sound in so many different ways.

Every time she got too close to Clarke, she risked suffering a third degree burn, that she was sure of.

And yet, she kept getting closer and closer, erasing the space between them, destroying it with touches and caresses and passionate kisses that remained forever in her best memories. She felt like she kept murdering space itself whenever their bodies were pressed together until they could feel everything.

"Shit."

Lexa's thoughts were interrupted by Clarke's voice as Raven laughed out loud at the blonde's facial expression. Clarke looked at her plate with disbelief written all over her face.

"Clarke?"

Raven chuckled even more. The contrast between the way Clarke showed her worry compared to the way Lexa did was hilarious. Lexa only pronounced a name, but it was said with a tone that drastically opposed the confidence she usually radiated. It made Lexa appear small.

Clarke poked the side of her plate toward Lexa, carefully making sure to not burn herself as well. Lexa understood without saying anything. She asked permission with her eyes before taking a small bite of the meal.

"It's spicy." Lexa declared as she blinked a dozen times as her tongue caught on fire.

"How did you manage to order the one thing you cannot eat?" Raven mocked. "Did you maybe get distracted by, I don't know, say, some person sitting next to you? That's JUST a hypothesis. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not. Who will ever know?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and hit Raven under the table, only to receive a smile in exchange.

"Really, C? Kicking my brace? I didn't even feel it."

Clarke groaned. She hated everything that was even a tiniest bit spicy since she was old enough to taste it. She could not even eat supposedly mild sauce because she could feel the spiciness. It made her tongue burn and her eyes water within seconds. She had had tabasco sauce once in her life and she had almost choked on the minuscule drop that had touched her tongue. It made her spit back whatever she had in her mouth, even if it was her favorite food.

It was one of the first things Lexa had memorized about Clarke.

"I didn't read anything about it being spicy," she complained while staring at the plate with a defeated expression.

She looked down at the pasta for a minute, wondering if she could order something else really quickly, but the plate was removed from before her by Lexa's hand. It was replaced by Lexa's untouched meal, a perfect combination of chicken pesto pizza and a small portion of Alfredo fettuccini.

"Do you like spicy food?" Clarke asked with suspicion, finding the one little side of Lexa that she could finally disagree with.

She had never asked Lexa, but from what she could tell, Lexa was not one to complain about anything that was in front of her.

"More than you do, obviously. Now eat before it gets cold."

Without waiting any further, Lexa took a huge bite, smiled, and encouraged Clarke to do the same. Raven didn't wait either. Pizza never waited. If the problem was solved, then it was a done deal.

The explosion of savors made their heads go dizzy. They didn't talk much, but when they did, it was either to ask Clarke how the food was or how Lexa's hand felt. Blue eyes were inhabited by a thousand stars as she ate what must have been the best meal of the trip. She whispered thank you a hundred times.

When Lexa emptied the sixth giant glass of water after her final bite of pasta, she had never felt more relieved.

She could not feel a thing in her mouth anymore and she was certain she would not taste anything for a few days. She was doing all she could to not make it evident that she needed to gulp extraordinary amount of air to ease the pain. She had managed not to cough a single time while swallowing but she had no idea if she could even talk anymore. She considered a miracle the fact that her eyes were still dry.

She didn't mind. Whatever she could do to protect Clarke, she would do. Whatever it took for Clarke to smile, she would try to do.

She would drink a bottle of Sriracha while stuffing her stomach with wasabi if she had to. She would fight in a war against all the corporations that sold spicy items if she had to. She would trust Clarke to make her do the right thing, because she had this strong feeling that Clarke would do the same.

Clarke's smile was worth everything.

Raven noticed the amount of water Lexa drank, the way the tall woman seemed to have her behavior under perfect control.

Too perfect.

She knew Lexa was the right choice for Clarke.

* * *

Twenty minutes of total silent walk later, they arrived at a shop with a giant window on which a giant P&P was written in gothic script. They had almost been hit by a dozen cars. It didn't matter if the cars were more expensive than those they had previously seen, the drivers still sucked. Clarke immediately forgot about her suspicions toward Lexa's lack of verbal intervention when she noticed the place they had come to.

Many groups of people were already inside, talking, planning, drawing patterns with thin black pencils. Some gestured to part of their body, miming things the trio did not understand from outside the room. Every artist had something in common. They were half covered with lines and designs forever imprinted in their skin.

"Did you really bring us to a tattoo salon?" Raven whispered, as if she was afraid the place itself was haunted.

Clarke had the same unsure look in her eyes. She didn't mind the recent interest in tattoos for their generation, but she wouldn't trust a place so far from home to get it done. She loved all forms of art. She didn't trust all artists.

"You have an appointment? Here? Are you sure you didn't make a mistake somewhere? I can't see how you'd want a needle to stab your skin repeatedly just for the fun of it."

"I do have an appointment. And you don't have to come in if you fear the place."

Raven pointed a finger at herself in disbelief, shrugged at the accusation and opened the door loudly, walking in like she owned the place. She defied Lexa to do the same, but the taller woman was back to her favorite activity: smiling at Clarke. They walked to the counter and Lexa met the man who would make sure the ink stayed in her skin forever.

He gained their trust by his charming personality and his funny behavior, telling them anecdotes of many failed drawings. He showed them his own tattoos, disclosing the story behind each of them. He explained the way all instruments were sterilized or thrown away carefully after being used. He carefully made sure Lexa would not regret her decision, repeating again and again that it was a permanent thing, that removing a tattoo would hurt twice as much as making it.

It would not take more than an hour for him to finish the tattoo, but depending on how Lexa's skin would react to the ink, it could take longer to make sure the drawing was well imprinted. He would try to make it as painless as he could, but he could not guarantee it. It would hurt.

Lexa simply listened, nodding when it was time to agree, frowning when something was unclear. It was a wonder how the artist even understood her unspoken interventions, but it made Clarke raise an eyebrow at her girlfriend's behavior.

She knew Lexa did not talk much, but she was never completely silent.

"Are you okay?" She asked Lexa when the artist went to another room to retrieve the small drawing he had prepared.

Lexa nodded.

"Why aren't you speaking?"

Lexa just looked away.

"Lexa, look at me."

Lexa turned to Clarke with an innocent expression on her face, but a secret in her eyes. It didn't remain secret for long.

"You didn't like the meal, right?"

Lexa swallowed like she was been caught doing a violent crime. The only thing she repeated mentally was to play it cool. Surely, Clarke would give up.

"Lexa."

Lexa ignored it.

"Lexa."

The tone sounded more threatening.

"Lexa!"

Clarke removed her hand from the comfort of Lexa's.

"I'm not holding your hand until you tell me."

"It was not that bad. I liked it. It was just spicy," Lexa replied within seconds.

Lexa cursed mentally at her own weakness.

"What didn't you tell me?"

"Am I dead? No, I'm fine. It was a bit spicy, but I'm sure my tongue will be back to normal tonight."

"Did you know about this?"

Raven flinched when she felt Clarke's eyes throwing daggers at her head. Her best friend was staring at her like she was part of an international conspiracy. She shook her head quickly, hiding her thoughts that it could not have been more obvious. She felt Clarke's eyes remain on her for a long time, but the blonde didn't say more. She couldn't threaten Raven as easily as she did with Lexa. Lexa was another kind of whipped.

"Clarke, did you enjoy your meal?" Lexa asked as she slipped her hand back where it belonged.

She already craved the contact. It was ridiculous how perfect their hands fit together.

Clarke sighed in approbation. She had adored the meal.

"Then it's all that matters."

"It's not. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

Clarke icy glance melted at Lexa's words. She would have kissed her right now and sent all haters back to hell where they belonged if the male artist hadn't been back with his design. But she would remember those words and she made a small promise to thank Lexa as soon as she could.

The tattoo artist presented a small piece of paper in which he had drawn the stencil of a small infinity symbol.

"Are you serious?" Raven laughed but changed her mind when Clarke sent her another killer look. "I mean, it's not cliché at all, I've never seen such an original design in my whole life."

Clarke slapped Raven's shoulder while Lexa was brought to another room in the back.

The green eyed woman didn't say much when the needle pierced the back of her neck for the first time. She flinched at the intrusion, but it didn't take long for her to get used to the stinging burning feeling. She knew it would be painful, but quickly over, compared to those whose designs took half the space on their body. She felt the needle moving inside her skin, tracing the pattern repeatedly, delivering black ink at a perfect depth for it to be trapped by her body.

She swallowed slowly when the needle traced the infinity symbol again, reopening the same wounds. She could feel her entire body reacting to the tiniest stab. The only relief she had was when he would quickly wipe the drawing with a cold tissue before diving back in.

She welcomed the pain.

She welcomed the kind of pain that was inflicted to her body for a beautiful result, a piece of art, rather than some ugly scar. She loved the way her skin was being taken care of while he poked holes in it at light speed. It opposed the way she carelessly used to poorly treat her cuts once the storm was over.

She understood now why people who had a tattoo often came back for more. It was the kind of pain that left one with a sense of invincibility. It was the kind of pain one didn't want to go through again, until they did.

It was addictive.

It was completely painless in the long term, unlike the memories of her darkest hours.

It made her body feel alive, resisting the intrusion as best as it could. But her body would fail the battle and only a beautiful scar would remain, only a curved line of a horizontal eight would be left as a reminding of the war.

No one wanted to be stuck for the rest of their lives with a design they regretted, and it was probably the reason why it had taken Lexa a tremendous amount of time before confirming the appointment. No one wished to be reminded constantly of their mistake if it turned out to be one. No one wanted to be forever caught in that faithful day where they had gotten a tattoo they now hated.

People didn't like things they could not get rid of. It removed the control they thought they always had. A tattoo was permanent. Just like all the memories that came with it. They could remove the tattoo if they truly wanted to, if they had the patience, the money and the will to go through the process, but they could never get rid of the memories.

The memories were the hardest to let go of.

There was no way to get rid of them. There was no treatment people could pay for. The soul could not be cured by anyone else but themselves.

And Lexa had thought about it a lot.

Was she sure she would never regret the memories?

And if she ended up regretting them, how bad would it be?

She had received no answer to those questions, only incertitude. But she didn't want to be paralyzed by her fears anymore.

A simple infinity sign. It was a very common choice for someone her age, but she gave it another explanation than the majority.

The artist finished the tattoo in half an hour, plenty of time for Lexa to feel plenty of the pain. The result was just as she expected it to be. A clean, beautiful, dark infinity sign decorated the back of her neck.

She joined her two impatient companions in the main entrance to pay and had to avoid their multiple questions. Her neck was sore, but she could not be more satisfied.

She answered all of Clarke's questions with her eyes.

Yes, she was fine.

Yes, she was satisfied.

Yes, it hurt like a bitch.

Yes, she was happy.

They wandered in the streets of Makati, exploring the popular shopping mall of Greenbelt. It was huge and it took the rest of their day for them to discover its five sections. They didn't buy many things, but they took more pictures than they could have asked for. They smiled so much their entire faces hurt. They laughed so much they couldn't talk anymore because their throat hurt too much. They teased each other so much that both their shoulders hurt from the many slight punches they kept receiving.

They played arcades and acted like five years old when they lost. They had a competition of who could drink the most iced tea before suffering from a violent brain freeze. They ate at another restaurant and this time, Lexa double checked Clarke's order while the blonde carefully made sure none of their plate was too hot. They bought souvenirs for their people back home in a local shop in which they almost lost each other in the crowd.

Lexa and Clarke found each other first, as if it was meant to be.

And Raven joined them a few minutes later, finding her place safely by Clarke's side.

They made the city their own within a few hours and waited for the sun to go to sleep before stepping outside the mall.

When they walked back to the Ayala Triangles, they were welcomed by an infinity of lights shining and flashing around them, suspended everywhere. They hanged from trees and buildings, and their colors shone bright at the rhythm of a distant song playing from hidden speakers.

It was nothing but magical.

They were walking in the middle of a dream and they never wanted to wake up. Wherever they looked, the sight was breathtaking. From the ground to the sky, they felt trapped in a magician's box. The fresh evening air had replaced the deathly heat and the artificial lights show replaced the natural fireballs in the sky.

Lexa filmed the scene with her phone, marveling at the show like she had never seen anything comparable before. The colorful glow reflected in her green eyes and Clarke had never seen a more beautiful sight before. It was as if the forest was illuminated by a sea of multicolor fireflies.

And Clarke wanted to be stuck forever in this wildness.

She took a picture with her camera and five thousand more with her memory.

She took a twenty second video with her phone and a year worth of happiness movie in her soul.

Lexa wasn't beautiful.

Lexa was gorgeous. Lexa was a different kind of beautiful. Her soul guided Clarke's through the dark even if she didn't even try to. Her body inspired Clarke to dance closer, to cross miles simply to be within its reach. Her voice narrated their love story and her hands punctuated it with touches of eternal bliss. Her eyes added life beneath Clarke's sky. Her lips brought Clarke back to life while sucking the air out of her lungs.

And when Lexa turned to smile in her direction, Clarke's heart inevitably missed a beat.

When Lexa laughed at her dreamy expression, Clarke's chest ache from the amount of joy she felt.

When Lexa looked at her with a hint of lust, Clarke could only pray to find a way back inside her own body.

When Lexa stepped closer, Clarke froze and stopped breathing all together.

When Lexa kissed her, Clarke thought that this was what happiness tasted like.

This was what a dream tasted like.

This was what perfection tasted like.

It was a chaste kiss, too short to develop to what they both desired, but enough to fill their minds with future fantasies.

Hidden by the beauty of the hurricane of lights around them, they both fed the storm in their hearts with another delicate touch of their lips.

* * *

A light knock interrupted her from falling into the arms of Morpheus. Clarke opened her eyes in the dark and shivered. It was one in the morning and Lexa had left about thirty minutes ago to go back to her hotel. Raven had passed out the moment they had stepped back in their room. Clarke whispered Raven's name, knowing very well it was impossible to wake her up once she was in deep sleep.

Another knock disturbed the stillness and Clarke got out of bed, tiptoeing to the peephole with her phone in her hand, ready to call for help. From what she knew, there was always a guard at the main entrance, as well as a metal detector and a trained dog. It had terrified her at first, until she had realized it was common thing in the country. They even had detectors at the entrances of shopping malls.

She glanced through the little circle of glass and sighed in relief at the sight of Lexa standing alone. She opened the door as quietly as she could and smiled lightly when Lexa's mouth curved up as well.

"It's one in the morning," Clarke whispered.

"I know. I missed you."

Clarke smiled bashfully and noticed the bandage around Lexa's palm.

"Come in."

"Raven is sleeping. Come with me."

"Where?"

Lexa's mysterious smile made Clarke's curiosity tingle. Clarke went back inside the room quickly to bring enough to clean Lexa's wound. She wrote a quick note in case her friend woke up and left the room without making a sound. She slipped her arm through Lexa's and they started walking toward the elevator.

They crossed the distance to the elevator in silence, listening to the perfect absence of noise. They rode the elevator to the top of the hotel, where Lexa had discovered was a hidden balcony on which they could observe the world from. They sat alone next to each other and watched.

The view was magnificent. Cars were still racing on Roxas Boulevard, their headlights making ribbons of red and white crossing each other. Past the street was the cultural center of the Philippines, bordered by a small park. The tall palm trees reached for the sky, competing with the height of the illuminated Ferris wheel. They could hear the sounds of the city from above. Motors roared from all sides, sirens rang in the distance and homeless families were still awake, getting ready to sleep in the middle of nowhere for another night.

Children were no exception. They chased each other carelessly, playing pretend, acting like they weren't actually drowning in poverty. Some lighted up firecrackers, trying to put enough space between them and the explosive devices before the boom. When it happened, an arrow of fire darted through the night, sometimes spinning freely around.

"How did you know about this place?" Clarke asked.

"I looked for it."

"Smartass."

They turned their eyes to the sky. It wasn't as dark as they thought it would be. The perfect night sky was ruined by the light pollution, even though there still weren't as many skyscrapers as the largest cities in the world.

They saw the moon, a distant grey disk watching over them. It would be the sole witness of their words, of their late night complicity.

"This is familiar."

Lexa nodded. This was too familiar for the both of them to ignore it. This reminded them of other evenings, other nights, other times they had dreamed while being awake.

Late night text conversations had become their specialty while they were away from each other.

This was the first time they shared a moment like that since they landed in this country. They both dreaded the outcome and craved it. There were some things that would always be easier to say when they were not directly facing each other. And there were some things that could only be said in person.

The only thing that mattered was whether or not they would say those things or pretend to forget about all the unsaid words.

"Is your mouth still on fire?"

Lexa smirked.

"No. I have healed completely from this atrocious torture."

"You put yourself through this," Clarke innocently answered. "So, you feel again?"

Lexa didn't have time to nod before Clarke pulled her in a deep kiss.

God.

She could feel everything, everywhere.

She could feel Clarke's breasts being so close, _so close_ , from being pressed against hers and she almost cried at the idea.

She could feel her whole being vibrating as Clarke's hand pressed their heads closer. It was a fusion of the atoms that composed her to evoke new combinations of feelings. It was as if the chemicals in her brain were throwing a gigantic party without warning. It was as if she had no control anymore.

She felt drunk from Clarke's taste and she wanted to get wasted until she passed out. She felt high from Clarke's tongue moving against hers and she wanted to overdose until she reached the point of no return. Clarke was the poison and the antidote at the same time.

She could feel the way her feelings were erupting in chaos in her soul. They disturbed her sanity, knocking it down and smashing it to the ground violently. They dragged her in all existing dimensions, forcing her to hopelessly wander in a maze of a delicious disorder. They destroyed the previous emotions she had regarding Clarke and even more powerful ones replaced them.

Clarke moaned when Lexa answered the kiss as if she was agonizing and only the blonde's lips could cure her from this distress. She would rip Lexa's shirt off if she could ignore her rational side, but she used her last drop of self-control to break the kiss. She cursed her morals. Doing wrong would feel so incredibly good right now.

"Now my whole body is on fire," Lexa panted as Clarke let out a loud laugh.

"How's your neck?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore. It should heal well."

"You surprised me. I didn't expect you to get a tattoo today."

Lexa exhaled loudly, shaking away the remaining ideas of Clarke's body arching under hers. She could do this. She only had to forget the thought, even though it was all that occupied her mind. She swallowed hesitantly as she begged her body to calm down.

"It wasn't entirely expected for me either. I had asked for two designs at first. I only chose the infinity symbol."

"May I ask why you picked that one?"

"My previous idea would have covered a larger portion of my back."

Clarke hissed at the idea. That was impressive. And she was sure if would have been a lot more painful.

"It's hard to explain. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

Clarke chuckled. She always did and Lexa knew it very well. She reached inside her pocket to retrieve the items and handed them over. She watched carefully as Lexa drew a sketch of two circles, one voided of color and the other full black except for a small pattern crossing it. Lines of different shaped joined the both of them, breaking in and out of the spheres. It looked futuristic, like a code only Lexa had the key to crack.

"This is me," Lexa pointed at the black circle. "This one would have represented Costia."

Clarke nodded slowly.

"I didn't want her name. I don't want anything that would say too much. I don't want people to see it and know what it means. I didn't want anyone to believe I was careless enough to have a lover's name on my skin. I don't believe there is a heaven or a hell, so it doesn't represent anything like that, but as you can see, this is two different places. Two opposite places. They are linked, but they will never reach each other. They cannot communicate. They cannot even see each other. But they know something is there."

"This is beautiful."

Lexa stared at the drawing. She had thought it was a great way to honor Costia's memory, to have it imprinted in her skin. She hadn't been so sure of it recently.

"What made you change your mind?" Clarke whispered.

It had such a magical meaning and all Lexa had done was to replace it by a simple infinity.

"You."

The wind blew stronger around them for a few seconds, giving time for Lexa to translate her thoughts into words. The taller woman tore the piece of paper apart.

"You changed me."

Clarke almost opened her mouth, but the way Lexa's hand suddenly clenched around her own told her it would be a mistake to speak.

"I designed this with Costia in my mind, with the past as my shelter, with memories as my remedy to the pain. I thought about it everyday. I thought about the day I would get it inked. I thought about the pain I would feel, but the art that would remain after."

"It would have been stunning," Clarke agreed.

"I created it when I thought I could never get over the pain, but one day I woke up, and Costia wasn't my first thought anymore."

Lexa had cried that morning. She had cried for how guilty she felt and how amazing it had been to not be haunted by the ghost of her former lover anymore. She had cried for the gift of freedom she had never asked for.

"You were."

The quiet confession escaped in the air, but Clarke heard it loud and clear.

"And I thought, maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was just for a day. But it wasn't. I woke up another day and Costia wasn't there to say good morning. It happened too many times. You chased the pain away. I woke up and you were there."

Lexa's eyes avoided Clarke's.

"I thought maybe it would change when I met you again. I thought it was only because of the distance, because my mind was tricking me into believing that I missed you more than I actually did. It didn't change. It was until I realized I missed you even when you were in front of me."

Lexa's voice trembled as she continued.

"I missed you because I prevented myself from being with you. I had one eye on the past and one on the future, but none on the present. And I missed you so much. I knew that if I got this tattoo, I would never get away from the past. And maybe I'm not over the past yet, I know I am not, but I want to be."

Clarke's breath was caught in her throat as she listened to Lexa's hoarse voice.

"You remember when we created our story?"

Clarke nodded. How could she ever forget? Their immortals alter egos.

"I never did that before. I never allowed myself to think of an alternative world. I could only focus my attention on Costia, on her disease, on death. There was no alternative for me. But you created one. You created a world and it's a wonderful one. You taught me to see reality in a different way. You offered me the possibility of a love story that can only end positively."

Clarke wanted to refute Lexa's word. She didn't feel like she did anything. It was all Lexa. To Clarke, it had always been all Lexa's work.

"I don't want to live in the past anymore. I probably never wanted to. Then you came and you offered me an infinite number of roads to explore."

The noises of the city disappeared.

"I am not saying this tattoo is only because of you," Lexa chuckled in a failed attempt to break the tension. "But I thought, what if there are no infinities? What if my idea of a spirit moving on isn't real? What if forever doesn't exist?"

Lexa's eyes danced over Clarke's silhouette.

"We may not have been leaders from the sky and the ground. We may not have a thousand lives to go through. And if we don't, I want to create this forever. I want to make enough memories to fill a thousand lifetimes. I want to live for a long time, until I reach the moment when I can say it's enough and truly mean it."

Green fused with blue.

"Clarke, you inspire me. And this symbol is a reminder. It's a reminder that I have to build my own infinity, an outstanding forever within a restricted amount of time."

The blonde took a deep breath, trying to process the importance of Lexa's words.

She had never thought a simple tattoo could represent so much.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Don't say anything. You asked me what it meant and this is my answer. This is thank you."

At some point during Lexa's speech, their chairs had been replaced closer, allowing Clarke's head to rest on Lexa's shoulder.

They stayed in this position for a fraction of forever and Lexa thought she could not have had better memories to build her infinity.

Clarke's thumb slowly caressed the back of Lexa's hand, passing over the bandage like it didn't exist.

Lexa stared at the distant lights of the city. It was only a small percentage of everything she wished she could tell Clarke, but for tonight, it was enough.

Someday, she would gather rare courage to tell her girlfriend how much she loved her.

She wished two AM didn't have such power on her words, on her thoughts. She wished two AM didn't have this mysterious force to make her release her deepest feelings. Everything that happened in the middle of the night meant too much to be forgotten at sunrise. Every word pronounced when under the moon's eye came from a deep well from which only the truth could come out. Every thought born in the blackness of the night came from the purest form of the soul.

Everything was different in the middle of the night.

Lies didn't seem worth it anymore.

Truths were spilled until there were no secrets to give anymore.

Feelings of all kinds were confessed fearlessly regardless of the many tomorrow's.

Time flew by differently.

Darkness and light had different definitions.

"Let me change that for you."

Clarke stared at the healing wound for a minute before wrapping it in fresh bandages. She softly held Lexa's hand afterwards. She made sure the bandage would not slip and froze while she examined it closely.

She felt the rhythm of her heart increased drastically. It was late. She was exhausted. She could barely keep concentration focused anymore. It was getting darker outside. And yet, there was no mistaking the sight of a tiny faded line on the inside of Lexa's wrist.

She shook her head lightly. She must have imagined it. It couldn't be what she thought it was. Lexa had spoken about infinities and focusing on the present and everything that truly mattered. She wouldn't have said those words unless she meant them. She wouldn't have lied to Clarke about something so stunningly beautiful.

But Lexa had also admitted she was not over the past yet.

Clarke subtly passed her thumb on the length of Lexa's forearm and felt the almost imperceptible scar. She stared at Lexa. Who was she? Who was that part of Lexa that had done this? Did it still exist? How long had it been? Clarke wasn't even sure she wanted to know the answers.

Clarke muffled a tiny cry as Finn's face flashed through her mind.

The brunette was still lost in her thoughts and was not aware of the Pandora box Clarke had opened.

But Clarke felt her finger burning as she touched the mark again. And again. And she knew it wasn't an illusion even though she prayed it was. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a silly joke. It wasn't another story distinct from this one. The scar was there. It existed in their reality no matter how many surrogate worlds she imagined. It was a wonder how she had never noticed it.

And now that she had, she wished she had never known. Or she wished she had known it before, she wasn't sure. Would it have changed the way she saw Lexa? Did it change it now?

She tried to process it the best way she could, but the night brought nightmares back and she could not find a calm way to digest the information. She could not make the right decisions in the middle of the night and suddenly, doing wrong didn't seem so right anymore.

So she tossed the information away.

She threw it as far as she possible could.

She buried it six feet under and built a mountain on top of the grave.

She sent it to outer space and forgot about it.

She would not let it ruin the perfect day.

And for a moment, it almost felt like the discovery had never happened.

"Lexa?"

Lexa turned her head to Clarke.

"Why are you here? At this hotel past two in the morning?"

It was a loaded question and Clarke expected one specific type of answer.

"I rented a room here. It was about time we fixed our mistake."

It was more than due. Both agreed on that. Lexa had always tried to stay as late as possible with Clarke, but she always went back to her place at the end of the day. It always saddened more than she let it seem.

"You have a room here? You rented a room here even though we leave Manila tomorrow?"

Lexa nodded slowly when she noticed the sudden absence of sleep in Clarke's eyes and the burst of lust.

She noticed it because she was sure her own pupils mirrored the expression. The attack of sensations she had previously been under when Clarke had kissed her at the beginning of the evening stroked back, stronger than ever, sending lightning from her head to toes, delivering shocks between her thighs.

"Show it to me."

It wasn't even a question.

"Are you sure?"

It was a whispered hope.

"Stop talking."

It was a demand and an order.

Two chairs were harshly pushed out of their way.

An elevator button was violently pressed a dozen times.

A ride to the lower floor seemed to take a hundred years as they fought the need to take one another against the wall.

A door was aggressively opened and two bodies pressing against each other stumbled into the dark room.

The perfectly made bed became the land of anarchy.

The silence was replaced by a symphony of whispers, sighs, curses, whimpers and moans.

The steady rhythm of their breaths became a messy land of gasps and pants.

Clarke spent the night wide awake, chanting Lexa's name like her national anthem and marking her body with the only type of scars she would ever agree to.

* * *

 **Brace yourselves for the next chapter...**

 **The title will also be explained.**


	10. The golden ship part 2

**TW: Mentions of self-harm, suicide and depression**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa for proofreading.**

 **Title explanation at the end.**

 **Thank you to all readers :)**

* * *

 **The golden ship – part 2**

Do you know them? The people you speak to, the people you care about, do you truly know them?

There are different levels of knowing someone. It goes from the most useless superficial information to the very detailed secrets of their lives. How much you know someone, it often depends on how close you are to them. It depends on the frequency of the interactions, on the depth of the words exchanged, on the amount of subjects explored with them. But is complicity really enough to claim to know someone?

You may know everything about their physical appearance. You may know everything about their personality and the way they act around other people. You may know what makes them smile and cry. You may know what makes them laugh and tear up. You may know what subjects to avoid and which ones are guarantees of a two hour conversation. You may know what their favorite color is or what kind of song they listen to.

But do you know their dreams? Everything that makes their lives worth living, every motivation that justifies their actions, do you know them?

Do you know their fears? What makes them hide under their covers at night, what makes the blood rushes through their veins in the middle of the day, do you know what it is?

Do you know what makes them want to wake up in the morning and gives them the strength to go through another day?

Do you know what wakes them up in the middle of night, making them wish they could sleep and never open their eyes again?

It is terrifying to know someone too much. It gives one the knowledge to do right, but also the opportunity to do wrong. It makes one feel responsible for another. It makes one closer to another and being too close is frightening. It threatens one's idea of freedom.

When one lets someone in, it means they accept to share their vulnerability. And no one likes to appear weak. No one likes to give someone else weapons that can exterminate them with one push of the trigger. No one likes to offer victory to their enemy.

The question is not whether or not you know someone. The question is just how much exactly do you think you know them? Because no matter who they are, no matter what they mean to you, secrets are inevitable.

Do you know what words spin in their soul when they look at themselves in the mirror?

Do you know what ideas cross their mind when they fail to reach their goals?

Do you know what poisonous thoughts fly through their heads when they are unable to focus?

Do you know the difference between their dreams at noon and their wishes at three in the morning?

Do you know what they tell the clouds when they get lost on their way to the top of the mountain, or what they share with the stars once they cannot see the light anymore?

Do you know what they wished they knew before it became too late?

Do you know what they seek to know at this very moment?

Do you know about their regrets and their hopes? Do you know about the ups and downs of their self-esteem? Do you know what soothes their mind when everything falls apart? Do you know what heals their soul when their world is on the edge of death?

Do you know their definition of happiness? Of sadness? Of hate? Of love?

What proof do you have that you know everything?

All it takes is a word, a gesture, a change in their behavior for your idea of them to be permanently changed. All it takes is a smile, a tear, a laugh for the cracks in their armor to show, to let the world see a completely opposite version of them.

All it takes is one small detail for everything you thought you knew about them to disappear in a flash.

When everything changes, when the person you thought you knew suddenly becomes a complete stranger, what do you do? When the image that you had of them shatters in millions pieces, how do you put the puzzle back together? When the need to know the real person behind the mask becomes too strong, how do you confront them?

And if you don't like what you learn, how do you react?

* * *

It was paradise on earth.

The island of Boracay was made of the purest white sand and the most brilliant turquoise water on this planet. It was serenaded by the fragile voices of the sea during the day and haunted by loud club music at night. It burned under the brightest sun and the heat would be enough to cook people alive if it wasn't for the close proximity of the ocean. It welcomed tourists from everywhere on its beaches and fed them with so many astounding sceneries that the world seemed dull and empty when the reality knocked on the door. It gave them a glimpse of what wonderland looked like.

It was paradise on earth and Clarke could only focus on the pandemonium wrecking her soul.

It had been this way for the past hours and now she couldn't take it anymore. Whenever she saw Lexa, her eyes automatically glanced toward her forearms to look for new scars. Whenever she looked away, she had to fight the urge to turn back and touch Lexa's wrists. Whenever she tried to stop thinking about it, the need to check in Lexa's bags for hints hit her with the force of a bullet.

She had thought she would have been able to see past that fateful night, but she realized now what a fool she was.

She didn't even look at Lexa like she used to and she knew the taller woman must have noticed it.

She looked at Lexa with the eyes of someone who knew too many things they didn't want to know.

She looked at Lexa like she didn't trust her.

She hated how she couldn't look at Lexa the same way. It made her feel like she judged Lexa. It was against everything she had ever thought she would do when faced with this situation.

Clarke tried to keep the voices in her head down, but they kept screaming with the power of a nuclear central. The pressure on her shoulders was as heavy as if she had been trapped in a black hole and nothing she could distract herself with helped. She kept dismissing the thoughts but they always came back like they could never leave even if they wanted to.

It had been two days of nothing but love and affection in Boracay, and she was closer to the explosion than she had thought she was.

She could see the departure date approaching them from the distance and she could not let them separate without knowing the truth. She had to know. She had to know because no matter how pleasurable it was when she made every part of Lexa's body her own, she still couldn't turn her mind completely off.

Clarke had to know because the knife that had left this scar on Lexa's wrist now cut right through her sanity.

Whatever this meant, it couldn't be good. It couldn't be a sign of happiness, of joy. She had been unable to process this information. She had tried really hard, but all she had managed to do was to be visited by more images of Finn walking toward a path of self-destruction. She had tried to deny the importance of her discovery, but all she had managed to do was to be hunted by pictures where depression could lead someone to the edge of life.

She kept wondering who Lexa truly was. She kept wondering if the Lexa she had fallen in love with truly existed or if it had been just a mirage, a terrible lie. She kept repeating in her head that one did not simply "accidently" fall in love with someone, that love could not be dismissed as soon as a shadow appeared around it, but still, who had she fallen in love with?

She wondered if Lexa had any intention of ever telling her about it.

She hated being mad at Lexa when she had her own secrets to protect.

She glanced at Raven working on her tan right on the towel next to her. Her best friend rested on her stomach as she read a book about mechanical designs. Clarke smiled. Raven has almost given up her dream after the accident that had cost her leg. But Raven was invincible, and she had taken no time to prove it to her detractors.

Lexa had gone to get them drinks. Clarke stared and stared and stared until Raven finally spoke with her eyes glued to her book.

"If you stare at me one more second, I might just have to tell Lexa you're secretly eye fucking me when she's not around."

Clarke hesitated.

"I will tell Lexa about Finn. I want your permission."

Raven slammed her book closed, her eyes popping out of their orbits as she returned Clarke's stare with twice the intensity. She tried to discern any hint of prank in Clarke's words, but there was none. Clarke was serious and Raven was speechless.

"You will tell Lexa about Finn?"

"If you're okay with it."

"Why?"

There was no accusation in Raven's voice, only plain curiosity, but Clarke looked at the sand between her toes.

"There's something I have to find out and I think this might be the way."

"What did she do? Do I need to fight her? Do I need to kick her ass? Please tell me I don't."

Raven frowned. She remembered Octavia's warning, the hints that Lexa had been through a lot and might be hard to be around. She remembered Octavia asking her to keep an eye on them. She remembered seeing Clarke's smile and deciding that Octavia must have been out of her mind. She hoped that she hadn't made a mistake.

"No! She's done nothing. It's just something that's been bugging me. I have some things to discuss."

Clarke avoided Raven's eyes. If she was wrong and nothing was going on with Lexa, she didn't want Raven to sound the alarm for nothing. Her best friend could become the most protective person in the world and Clarke would definitely do the same for her. They relied on each other and kicked out whoever treated them badly.

"Are you sure about this?"

Clarke nodded, even though it was the complete opposite.

"I mean it, Clarke. I won't mind if you tell her about him, but are you sure this is the way to get the answers you're looking for? You know we don't share this with just any person."

"I don't know," Clarke admitted, "but it's the only way I can think of. I'm sorry. I can't tell you what this is about, not yet, not until I'm sure. But I know Lexa will be respectful."

"You know her better than I do," Raven said.

Suddenly, it felt as if she sun had travelled closer to Earth. Raven felt the heat licking her skin.

"You will tell me if something's wrong, right? Don't pretend like you're alone. You always do that."

Raven softly punched Clarke's shoulder.

The blonde cared too much to let people share any burden. Clarke would rather fall repeatedly than let anyone give her a hand. Clarke kept her demons to herself, protecting her friends' lives at the cost of hers. It was who she was. She didn't share her pain. She didn't share her problems. She didn't even let other people know she had problems until they directly asked her. She acted as if she was strong enough to hold the world in her arms, and whether or not she believed it was not the problem.

The problem was that she would let herself be crushed to death while pretending she had never been better.

"I will tell you," Clarke promised.

"I will remember that. Do you trust her?"

A few days ago, Clarke's answer would have been an immediate yes. But today, with so many blank spaces waiting to be filled, she found she was unable to answer. She wished she could say yes, but the simple three letters word refused to be pronounced.

"Do you trust her with Finn's story?" Raven specified, noticing the struggle her best friend was going through.

Clarke nodded. Of course she did. She knew Lexa, or at least she thought she did. She knew Lexa enough to know how much of a beautiful person she was inside and out.

"Do you think it will help?"

"I hope so. I have questions. I need answers. It's basic logic. I ask. She answers. It's too important to be ignored."

Raven sighed.

"You know what I'm going to say. Be careful."

"I am being careful."

"Are you really? Are you ready for the answers? Even if they are not the ones you want?"

It took a few seconds for Clarke to think about it. It took her a few minutes to wonder if knowing the truth was better than living in a lie. It took her a moment to wonder if she could handle having answers to questions that were so intimately linked to her own history. It took her a moment to wonder if they would survive the blow.

"I can't say. I just need to know. I cannot just sit here and not know, Rae."

Raven absently fiddled with the pages of her book. It sounded important. It sounded like Clarke was going to war and Raven didn't want her best friend to fall under the hand of the enemy.

"You'll tell me if it goes too far?"

"I always do."

"But this is different."

"This is different," Clarke murmured when Lexa came back, juggling with three glasses of colorful cocktails in her hands.

* * *

The view was nothing like they had ever seen before.

The sky transformed to a blazing volcano as the sun slowly disappeared in the horizon. The waves danced and played music, following the rhythm of the moon's gravity commands. The few wild animals that crawled out of their houses looked at them curiously before going back to playing hide and seek. The appearing stars behind the orange ceiling were getting ready to dress this place in an atmosphere that came straight from the greatest fairytale.

Clarke sat on the rock, her familiar pad in hand and a pen in the other. Her eyes moved from the miles ahead back to the piece of paper in front of her. She traced the world the way she saw it, flawless at this moment, but broken in its own unique way. She wrote an invisible message to the planets and to the woman who had taught her how to understand the Morse code.

She wrote a single question that summed up everything. She asked for an answer but received none. She asked for a solution that would spare their relationship, but she doubted it existed. She prayed for a way they could avoid this fallout, but she knew it was inevitable. She begged for the world to stop moving just so she could have more time to deal with the blow to her stomach.

She wouldn't tell Lexa about Costia. Not yet. Not until she was sure if wouldn't badly affect her.

Clarke sighed. Everything had become complicated in the past days and this was not what she wanted. Every line became blurred between what she knew about Lexa, what she thought she knew, what she wished she knew and what she would probably never know. Every emotion was messing with her head and it drove her crazy. Even the perfect sky could not ease her confusion.

She knew what she had seen.

It was a scar.

It was a scar made by knife and the chances that it was a complete accident were too slim.

It was a scar made because Lexa wanted it to exist and the thought made Clarke shiver.

Clarke poured her soul in her art. She erased every line that appeared to not belong in the frame. She added shadows to give the image a different view. She played with the shapes of the objects and transformed the serenity in a peaceful disorder. She was so concentrated on the pressure she applied to her pencil that she didn't notice she had company until a hand reached to remove a lock of her blonde hair from the middle of her face.

She glanced up just in time to see Lexa's eyes move away from her face. The taller woman sat by Clarke's side on another large rock at the shore and smiled the way she always did when she was in Clarke's company. They both kept quiet as the artist finished her drawing. By the time she was done, the sky had turned dark purple and the silver moon had replaced its golden equivalent.

"Thanks for coming here."

The breeze blew the awkwardness away. The salted air gave them goosebumps, but they weren't cold. They still had the memory of the sun's hot kisses on their skin.

Clarke had required a few moments alone after dinner, whispering to Lexa to come join her later. She had thought about what she would say and realized there was no perfect way to start this conversation. She just had to dive in and hope to not swim too deep, to not be caught in violent currents.

She inhaled deeply. She would never be fully ready to talk about Finn with anyone. She would never be spared from the weight of his death on her shoulders. She would never find it easy to open up about his story. It was a subject her and Raven tried to avoid as much as they could. They always got rid of it with vague words and ambiguous hints. Now, there was no way for her to turn around the subject.

"How are you?"

Lexa's question was whispered but the tone of concern was loud and clear. It didn't take her much to realize Clarke's behavior had been off since their first night together. At first, she had thought her lover regretted crossing that line. The thought had made her heart hurt like never before. But Clarke had knocked at her door the following night, and the one after, and every one of them had been forever engraved in her soul.

"I'm fine."

The lie echoed around them.

"You are not."

The truth broke the invisible glass that had materialized between them.

"I'm not."

The soft confession built it back, stronger and indestructible. For the first time in days, their eyes didn't meet and their hands remained out of each other's reach.

Even the gravity that pulled them close seemed to have changed. The love that united them had not changed, but they were unable to see that.

"You've been lost in your thoughts recently, Clarke. Tell me."

Clarke thought it was both a curse and a blessing for Lexa to be able to see right through her so easily. It was a privilege to have Lexa care for her as much as she did, but it was also another kind of torture.

"I want to tell you Finn's story."

Clarke waited for a signal to stop. She waited for Lexa to ask who Finn was. She waited for Lexa to move away, to tell her it wasn't necessary, to tell her she didn't want to know. There was no signal.

The artist kept her eyes on the horizon. She had a sour taste in her mouth. She had the strange feeling that Lexa knew their conversation had to happen tonight if they wanted to avoid the imminent crash.

She almost laughed at herself. What a mess. She knew, of course. Lexa knew it was inevitable.

They were too close to pretend they couldn't read each other's mind. They had been through too much to pretend the flaws in their relationship were nonexistent. From their first meeting, they both had known that this was not just another casual meeting. From the moment their hands had found each other, they both had felt in their souls that they could never go back to who they were before. From the very first sentence, they both had known they had been born just to be heard by each other.

She prayed it wasn't too late to avoid the blow.

"I didn't tell you much about him. Except that night when you saved me from myself."

Lexa wanted to answer that Clarke had it all wrong, that it was Clarke who had saved Lexa from herself, but the words were stuck in her throat. She knew Clarke would not hear her voice. The blonde communicated only with the past at this very moment.

"Finn was Raven's boyfriend. We met him a few years back at school. He was a year younger than us and Raven was charmed. He was sweet and cared a lot about her. He had this crazy idea that peace could exist without war. That was the kind of person he was. He believed in a better version of humanity."

An idealist of his own kind.

"Wells was my best friend. We met when I couldn't even speak yet. He bumped into me in kindergarten and spilled paint on my clothes. He used to pretend this was the whole reason why I loved art so much, that I'd owe him when I'd become rich and famous. We grew up together. Went through all the issues that came with being a teenager together. He was wiser than he appeared to be. He helped me during some rough parts."

Lexa nodded. Clarke was wiser than she appeared to be as well. Lexa could only admire her as she shone through the night. She thought the way Clarke never gave herself enough credit was one of life's greatest shames.

"I used to think it would be like this forever, Raven and Finn, me and Wells. Forever doesn't exist unless you make one. That's why I like your tattoo so much, because it focuses on what matters. Forever doesn't simply exist in this world. You have to work for it. You have to make time obey you. And that one night, time got the best of two of us."

The sound of the waves crashing on the bottom of the giant rocks they were sitting on guided them through the night. The gentle melody usually knew how to heal wounds from the past, but tonight, there was no magical cure to get rid of Clarke's empty tone.

"It was December 29th at night. We had just had a small celebration, nothing much, just a party between friends. Finn had one glass of beer. That's all. He knew he would drive Wells back home so he didn't drink too much. But sometimes it's all it takes. One glass, one drop, one distraction and that's it, you're crossing the finish line without even realizing it."

Lexa listened.

To the words. To the silence.

"He crashed the car and he survived. Somehow, Wells didn't have this chance. He was declared brain dead when he arrived at the hospital and there was nothing we could do. We could wait for a miracle or we could move on. We could choose to let him live a life he didn't even have anymore or kill him."

Clarke shook her head and continued with a cynical laugh.

"Would you like to be plugged to a machine for the rest of your life? Wells wouldn't have wanted that. His father instructed the doctor to just end it. And just like that, he was gone. My best friend of nearly twenty years was gone within seconds. His entire existence was reduced to a car crash. A miserable car crash."

Lexa could hear Clarke's anger behind the bitter tone. She thought maybe the blonde wasn't talking to her anymore. Maybe she was just taking her feeling of injustice to the sea, hoping it would disappear far too deep for her to ever have to deal with it again.

"Finn survived but he didn't make it out alive."

Clarke seemed to be about to continue when she stopped brusquely. She glanced at Lexa as if she was remembering her presence.

"You know, it was my car. The one Finn was driving. The one I was supposed to have checked a few weeks before that event because it made some weird sound when we pressed too hard on the break."

Clarke clenched her jaw.

"Finn didn't make it alive. He was barely himself when he got out of the hospital. In his head, he had killed Wells. He felt responsible. He didn't know I was the stupid one here for making the call to always postpone my appointment to the garage. I kept thinking it wasn't that bad, but when they examined the car after, they said that it was a miracle the car had lasted that long. That's why Finn didn't get charged or anything. So really, it was my mistake here. It wasn't Finn. Finn didn't kill Wells."

Clarke didn't need to say anything more for Lexa to guess what she would have said. Finn didn't kill Wells. Clarke thought she was the murderer here.

Lexa felt her heart ache at the amount of hate Clarke seemed to have for herself. She hurt for how much the blonde loathed her own existence at this time. She wished she could find the proper words to help, but she could only listen until the end.

"But it doesn't matter. The result stays the same. Finn was completely different. He blamed himself. He put so much pressure on himself he got mad at everything and everyone. He kept apologizing to me, every hour of the day. He kept apologizing to Raven for being such a failure. He repeated that everyday, that he was responsible, that he should have died instead of Wells. One night, he even slept at the cemetery because he couldn't bear the thought of Wells being alone."

Lexa saw the way Clarke remained in perfect control of her emotions. There were no traces of tears in her eyes, no traces of her voice losing control anytime soon.

She thought it was the saddest thing about Clarke, the way she detached herself entirely.

"I told him it wasn't his fault. Raven said that too. Everyone said that. But he didn't listen. He drank the guilt away. He hung out with the wrong people just because he thought he belonged with them. He broke the law because he was a criminal in his head. Raven saw him ruin his life. Raven saw things that I can't even describe here because those are not mine to say. But he got depressed. He hurt himself. He hurt others."

Clarke sighed. She wanted this conversation to end already, but it was barely the beginning.

"He just disappeared. He just completely disappeared. He locked himself in his thoughts. He shut us out. He took his guilt, put it in a humid soil, gave it water and minerals, and watched it grow. It became a giant fucking sequoia tree."

Lexa felt her stomach spin in her body. Why was Clarke telling her this story? She didn't feel safe here anymore. She didn't feel like it was a simple story Clarke wanted to share with her anymore. There was more to it. Her sixth sense told her she was heading toward something more.

"You know, Lexa, the moment to sound the alarm when someone is depressed is not necessarily when they shut you out. It's not necessarily when they refuse to talk to you or even get out of bed. It's not when they can barely eat of all day. It's if they suddenly talk. It's if they suddenly smile, if they suddenly are back to their old selves. That's when you have to worry. Isn't it ironic? When they get better, there's a possibility it's because they're at their worst."

Lexa silently agreed. She had read about it. She had read so much about it, but when confronted with Clarke's confessions, with the reality of it all, she could not find a single comforting word to say.

"Raven watched him self-destruct and you know what? It destroyed her too. And when she thought he was finally better, she saw him jump from the city's highest bridge and crash into the water like he was nothing more than a lifeless body already. He jumped. His body floated on water for two hours before rescue finally arrived. He just drifted away and so did the last remaining of his life. He didn't survive. Because he felt he was responsible for Wells''s death and he never recovered, he believed the pain would never end. But he wasn't guilty. I was. I killed Finn too, you know? I did. Both of them, they're gone because of me."

Lexa trembled at the way Clarke spoke with a light tone at the end of the last sentence. Clarke spoke as if she was simply stating the truth, as if there was nothing that would ever change this, as if it was the only explanation.

"It started with a car accident and it ended up with a suicide," Clarke scoffed. "It's fucking pathetic. You know who kill themselves, Lexa? People who believe no one cares about them. People who believe death will stop the pain. But we cared so much about Finn. We showed him how much we cared everyday and it still wasn't enough. He still didn't believe us. He still died. When this happens, you never remain the same as you were. You question if love is enough."

Clarke voluntarily avoided to mention Costia's role in her story. She already had too many grenades in her hands. She couldn't risk setting them all off at the same time.

"Raven went through hell. She watched her boyfriend die every day, repeatedly. She witnessed everything she shouldn't have witnessed. Raven died too. But she came back to life. And I've found a way to heal. I've found a way to cope. I might not have lived the best years of my life, but I'm alive right now. I didn't follow Finn's path. It's a damn miracle if you ask me, but we both didn't."

Clarke turned her eyes to Lexa and trapped her into her blue web.

"There's a reason I'm telling you this story."

There it was.

Lexa swallowed. A storm appeared in Clarke's eyes. A trace of grief appeared only to be gone within seconds.

There was no cloud of hesitation in Clarke's eyes, but there was a forest of uncertainties in Lexa's pupils.

"I'm telling you this story because I want you to know about it. I want you to know what we have been through, what made us the people we are today. You deserve to know why I break down sometimes. You deserve to know why I fall apart when it's a certain time of the year. You deserve to know why I sometimes hate myself so much that I wish I had jumped from that bridge too. You deserve to know how alive you've made me feel since I've met you."

The thought of Clarke wishing to die made Lexa's eyes fill with tears.

"You deserve to know that part about me if you want to care for me."

The thought of Clarke hating herself made Lexa want to trade her soul so Clarke could see herself the way Lexa saw her.

The thought of Clarke jumping from a bridge nearly gave her a heart attack. Lexa would have jumped right after her just to save her, no matter how high it was.

"I deserve to know too."

Clarke's voice reached her from far away.

Lexa had to fight everything to remain in control of her feelings. She had so much she wanted to say, but the quantity of words did not do justice to her ideas. She wished she could find depression and stab it with a thousand knives. She wished she could seek suicide and force it to stop existing.

"Are you dying, Lexa?"

The words were almost inaudible. They lost themselves amongst the waves breaking on the shore. They lost themselves in the quiet night, in a sky full of stars that were too bright for a world that could be so dull at some moments. The question made it to Lexa's ears and the tall woman froze.

"What?" Lexa breathed out.

Lexa felt the beating of her heart increase in pace and the bile rose to her mouth.

"You told me you were alive last time, but now I'm asking, are you dying? Are you dying the way Finn was before he ended his life?" Clarke pleaded to know.

This was ridiculous.

That was the first thought that crossed Lexa's mind because how could she be dying with Clarke by her side? Could she die from happiness? Could she die from loving too much? Could she die from the way her heart never seemed to respect its limit when she saw Clarke? Could she die from the way she never thought she would ever care about someone the way she cared about Clarke? Could she die from the way she wanted Clarke to mark her body over and over again, until the last atom of oxygen had left her lungs and she had no energy left to whisper anymore? Because if she could, then yes, she was dying.

But she knew it wasn't what Clarke meant.

She understood Clarke's question perfectly. She understood its implications and she knew, she inexplicably knew, what it meant. She understood the hidden questions behind that one little sentence. She had noticed the way Clarke looked at her the previous days. She had begged to be wrong, to be hallucinating, but she knew now that she had been right.

Clarke knew.

And Lexa felt incredibly small.

The image of a blade freeing blood from her veins crossed her mind and she could feel the release of a dopamine shot in her brain. It felt good. Incredibly good and incredibly tempting. It felt too good for something she knew was terribly wrong.

Lexa almost banged her head against the rock. She hated being back in this position. She felt like it was never ending, like she was forever meant to be trapped in this labyrinth of contradictory feelings, in this war between good and bad sides. She felt like whatever she did was wrong despite trying to be right. Everything felt painted in black or white and she had to choose one of them.

She hated herself for thinking, simply allowing herself to think, that cutting would make her feel good. She hated herself for having this thought when she was doing great at getting better. She hadn't had those thoughts in her mind for days. She hadn't given in to her urges in weeks, months even.

She wondered if this was how her life would be now. If, simply because she had cut before, she was forever cursed by her demons. She wondered if it meant the haunting ideas would come back every now and then to remind her of what she'd done in a moment of madness. She wondered if ten years, twenty years, fifty years from now, she'd still have those thoughts.

Why now? Why did they have to come back now, when everything had felt so incredibly perfect just a few minutes ago? She couldn't even explain this situation. She was unable to explain how the thought had made its way into her consciousness when she had done so much to bury it.

She felt nauseous. She felt like she was having a bad trip from a terrible drug. She felt like she had to die to truly live and that terrified her. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and she felt her heart sank into the darkness of the night.

Lexa struggled against her own thoughts.

And won.

"Are you dying?" Clarke insisted, her voice loud and competing with the sound of the water.

"No."

It was a single word that had the power to wreck their relationship. Lexa didn't even know if she believed herself.

"Why should I believe you? I've seen the scar, Lexa. Don't you dare lie to me."

"I'm not lying, Clarke," Lexa softly answered as she tried to keep the conversation civilized. "You have to believe me."

Clarke could feel the anger boil in her blood. Just because she appeared calm didn't mean she was. She was on the edge of exploding and Lexa would be the victim. As much as Clarke wished to avoid such situation, she knew it would be hard to keep her behavior controlled. She had expected this conversation to be hard, but she had not expected to feel overwhelmed by contradictory feelings, pulling her from all sides at the same time.

She wanted to believe Lexa so much, but the thoughts of Raven crying at the phone in the middle of the night refused to leave her alone. The thoughts of Raven knocking at her door when everything was dark outside, raging and sobbing and falling apart didn't want to leave her.

She wanted to take a deep breath and calm herself before she lost control, but it seemed impossible to do now that she had disclosed her full story to Lexa.

She wanted Lexa to do the same.

She needed Lexa to do the same.

"I've seen the scar," Clarke repeated.

She didn't know anymore what tone to adopt. She didn't want to be mad at Lexa. She didn't want to blame Lexa for something none could control. She didn't want to judge Lexa for doing something so horrible. But she couldn't just do nothing. Not when she had already lost someone. Not when she knew how bad it hurt to watch someone destroy themselves. Not when she knew she could prevent it.

She would not lose anyone else to this kind of illness.

She would not lose Lexa. She would not let Lexa lose herself.

But she still couldn't help but feel betrayed. She wished Lexa had told her about it.

She wished she was able to say more, to do more, to help more. The moment she had seen that thin line on Lexa's wrist, a flick had been switched in her mind. It had lightened up the dark part of her soul where memories of Finn destroying himself were carefully hiding.

She couldn't help remembering him. She couldn't help remembering the sleepless nights helping him to get back up on his feet after too many drinks, the restless days trying to convince him that violence was not a solution, the never ending speeches about how it was not his fault that Wells had succumbed to his wounds.

She imagined Lexa mourning the death of her girlfriend a few years back. She imagined Lexa falling apart and being unable to fix herself. She imagined Lexa being permanently stuck with a stormy past hovering in her shadow.

She didn't want to go through this again. She understood the differences between Finn and Lexa, but it was stronger than rationality. She simply couldn't go through this again, the constant fear of losing someone, the constant fear that something terrible could happen any second.

She loved Lexa. There was no doubt about it in her mind. Every little part of Lexa, every demon, every angel, every twisted part that made Lexa the wonderful woman she was. Everything.

"It's an old scar."

Clarke freed a single tear from her eyes. There it was. The dreadful confirmation. The one she always knew she would have, but never was ready to hear. The one that changed everything even though she fought for things to remain the same.

"I don't do it anymore."

Clarke wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe those words so much that it caused an earthquake within her body. But last time she had left herself believe things were better, it had ended with a funeral in the middle of a glacial winter.

Lexa looked at her with green eyes filled with shame and guilt. They were haunted by the wrong choices she had made and the regrets she now had to live with. They were occupied by a deep melancholia no cure could ever heal and Clarke wanted to take back all those words inside. She wanted to erase this conversation just so she could take away the pain from Lexa's soul. She could see Lexa struggling, could see the way it tortured her to admit her behavior.

She knew, now more than ever, that Lexa would have done anything to avoid this option, but that it was the only one she could see at the time.

"Clarke, I promise, I don't do it anymore."

Clarke wished she could believe her. But she knew the deal personally. She would only get the right answers if she asked the right questions. And she knew the answers could leave her devastated.

She had to know.

Clarke noticed the way Lexa's eyes blurred slightly and she realized Lexa knew what to expect. She read Lexa's soul and knew that the worst had not passed. It was right ahead of them and it was charging at them with fury.

"Do you still think of doing it?"

The right question and she would get the right answer.

It was a simple equation that she could use to know everything she wanted.

There was hesitation in Lexa's words and Clarke didn't even have to wait for the whole sentence to know the answer.

"I… Clarke… I don't do it anymore. I cannot direct my thoughts, but I can control my actions."

"You still think about doing it."

Lexa sighed. There was no denying it. She nodded and watched Clarke's face crumbled.

"Do you have a blade?"

"Clarke."

Lexa wished she could throw her bag on another planet.

"Answer me," Clarke ordered with a trembling voice. "You can't ignore my questions. Please, don't ignore them. You know I have to know. I won't stop until I know."

Clarke didn't know what kind of answer she expected, but she needed one.

Lexa nodded slowly and Clarke shook her head in disbelief, another tear escaping the ocean in her eyes.

"Why?"

The implicit question was as loud as could be. Why did you do it?

Clarke's voice broke. There was no other question that mattered. Why in the world would Lexa hurt herself? Clarke thought that if she knew the reason, she could prevent it from ever happening again. But she had known why Finn had hurt himself and it had not changed the outcome. She suddenly felt attacked by the amount of care and respect she had toward Raven.

Raven had survived Finn's fate. Clarke already knew she would not survive if it happened with Lexa.

"I don't use it, Clarke."

"Stop saying my name. Answer me."

Lexa sighed slowly. There was no easy way to answer. It didn't matter what words she would use, Clarke would only remember what she wanted to remember. It didn't matter if they said goodbye at this very moment. They wouldn't even be aware of being apart. They would only notice the way it happened.

"I don't know.""How do you not know?!"

Clarke's voice was on the edge of breaking again and there was nothing Lexa could say to prevent it.

But Lexa truly didn't know why she did it. She used to wonder that same thing about people who cut themselves before she started doing it herself, and she realized only after that there was no answer. She could never figure out why she did that.

"I don't know," Lexa repeated." I just wanted to feel something other than pain."

"It makes no sense," Clarke spit. "It makes no sense because you hurt yourself."

"No, Clarke. It didn't hurt the way you think it did. It forced me to focus on the blood. It forced me to look at my body rather than my soul. It made me focus on something I could control. How deep I would cut, how long it would last, how many times I would let the blade touch my skin, those were things I could control rather than being the slave to my thoughts. It reminded me I was still alive."

Clarke struggled to remain immobile. All she wanted was to jump into the ocean and swim away from this person she wasn't sure she knew anymore. She wished she had the strength to interrupt Lexa's morbid explanation, but all she could do was listen .

"It was curiosity at first. It didn't stay that way. You cannot understand how addictive it is until you try to stop. It helped me cope with the loss. I knew it was wrong, Clarke, trust me when I say that. I also knew if it wasn't that, it would be something else."

"Nothing could be worse," Clarke harshly said.

"I know it seemed like it but there are worse things than that. I either hurt my body or I fed the turmoil in my soul. I either attacked my skin or I let my soul be poisoned."

"You cut yourself, Lexa. I think your soul was pretty much gone already."

The words were hard to hear, but Lexa understood why Clarke said them.

Clarke didn't want to be mad, but she couldn't help it. She knew Lexa couldn't simply have chosen to cut herself. Things weren't that simple. But she was incredibly angry.

"It kept me grounded here, alive," Lexa tearfully admitted. "When you can't shut your thoughts, when the world goes pitch black, when there's no 'off' button anymore, you are eaten alive by the pain. You need to find an anchor."

"And self-harm was it? That's the answer you found?"

"For a moment, it was. It's addictive. It's… one day you wake up and you have to do it. I cannot explain."

Clarke bit the inside of her cheeks, swallowing the stones she wanted to throw at Lexa.

"I was told the surgery had gone well. I was given hope. Costia was given hope. After five years of hospital beds and recurrent nightmares, she could finally go home. It was all taken away from us. I know it's not an excuse, but I want you to understand. The transplant was not perfectly compatible, but it was our best option. Costia's parents didn't want to do it, but I pushed them to accept. I begged them. I made researches to convince them. I pulled all the scientific articles I could find to plead them to go through it."

Clarke thought they were awfully alike.

Clarke thought they had been through the same things.

And maybe that was why she was so mad at Lexa. Because she had gone through hell and she never had the need to harm herself, but Lexa did. Why Lexa? Why not her? What made them so similar yet completely different at the same time?

"I begged them. I gave them hope. But you know what's worse than not having any hope at all? Having it given to you on a silver platter only to have it stolen a few weeks later. I didn't help them. Costia's heart got infected and she died, and I was alone, and I had no idea what to do, Clarke, no idea."

There was nothing but the stars over them, and Lexa showed her wrist to Clarke. Even though they were blinded by the night, the simple fact that she knew the scar existed made Clarke saw it.

"Yes, I have a scar. And I asked for it," Lexa said. "But I won't have any other."

"How can I believe you? You just said you wanted it. Who knows how many invisible ones you have too. I certainly don't."

Lexa shivered, not because of the cold, but because of the amount of blood that had flown out of her veins. She could not count the invisible scars because there were too many.

"I can tell you if you want. All about it."

Clarke remained silent.

Lexa spared the details to Clarke, but she had a feeling the blonde knew them all regardless.

"I'm asking you, please, believe me. I have a knife. I don't use it. It's in my bag. It's small. It's a pocketknife. It's brand new and I've never used it. I threw the old ones away. I keep that one because it reminds me of my mistakes and I can't let it go yet. I want to. I want to throw it away. Ask me anything and I'll offer you the truth."

But Clarke didn't want the truth anymore. She wanted reality to be covered with a filter that made everything better, that brought them back to three days ago in the comfort of Lexa's room. She wanted to forget this conversation, just for a moment.

She wanted to believe Lexa and everything she said about letting go, but she knew it wasn't easy. Finn had told Raven countless times that he was going to change until the long awaited relapse. Finn had given Raven hope and taken it away. Clarke understood too much how much it hurt.

Lexa stared at her with a pleading look, with so many emotions in her eyes that Clarke could not think properly anymore. She wished the moonlight would give her the answer.

"When was the last time you thought about it?"

Lexa closed her eyes.

"Not so long ago."

Clarke wished she could stay mad. It would have been so much easier to be mad and yell at Lexa for her stupid behavior, and blame her for all that was wrong with the world, but she couldn't. She couldn't because in her head, all she could imagine was Lexa's silhouette standing in the dark in the middle of nothing. All she could see in her head was Lexa in pain, Lexa hating herself.

All Clarke knew was that she cared too much about Lexa to remain angry.

"You should have told me. I would have helped."

"I couldn't. I couldn't put that on your conscience, Clarke."

"I don't care about my conscience!" Clarke shouted. "You want to know what I care about, Lexa? You. I care about you. I care about your health. I care about you being alive and I'm talking one hundred percent alive. I care about you hurting yourself. I care about knowing whether or not you're safe. I care about that knife you're hiding in your bag. I care about all the times I could have helped but didn't because I had no idea what was going on."

Clarke took a deep breath. She threw a sad glance at Lexa.

"You have to let me care about you," the artist whispered.

Lexa looked away. She wasn't sure how to do that.

"I won't die, Clarke. I have no intention of dying. I don't want to. I never wanted to. I needed a temporary escape, not a permanent one. I don't need any escape anymore but my imagination, just like you taught me."

Clarke felt her chest becoming constricted. It was becoming difficult to breathe and she knew she had to slow the pace of the conversation if she wanted to avoid a panic attack. She could not help it. She felt helpless. She could not ignore the flagrant comparison between Finn and Lexa's behavior. She could try to move on, but it was as if she was the one with the scar.

It was as if seeing Lexa's scar had cut through her own skin as well.

That was how much Clarke felt connected to Lexa. That was how much she cared.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Lexa murmured.

Clarke reached for Lexa's hand. They were both trembling from the heaviness around them.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice before," Clarke cried silently.

She cried for Lexa's pain, for the grief they both had been through, for the guilt that still sometimes threatened to eat them alive, for the shadow of the past that seemed permanently hovering over them. She cried for their lost innocence and the way they'd never get it back. She cried for their search for a restful mind that didn't exist.

The silence filled the air between them.

The waves kept crashing at their feet.

"Clarke?"

The creatures of the sea came to ask for their sorrows and take them away from the shore.

"I care about you too."

* * *

 _I do not want to have you_

 _to fill the empty parts of me_

 _I want to be full on my own_

 _I want to be so complete_

 _I could light a whole city_

 _and then_

 _I wa_ _nt to have you_

' _cause the two of us combined_

 _could set it on fire_

 _\- Rupi Kaur_

* * *

There was so much they had to talk about. There were so many words they could say to kill the silence. But they allowed themselves a few minutes of peace. They weren't tired. They weren't on the edge of falling asleep. They were wide awake, previous words still ringing in their head. Even at nearly two in the morning, sleep was the last thing they had in mind. They held each other's hand preciously, fighting the cold air coming from the other side of the ocean. They watched the stars.

They watched the stars and fell in love with the way they reflected in the other's eyes.

They tried to avoid the next subject. They tried to deny it, but it was right in front of them. They thought if tonight was the official night for talking about hard subjects they would get a full meal of them. They postponed the moment as much as they could, but sooner rather than later, even the stars assembled themselves to influence the words that came out of their mouth.

Clarke was going home in a few days.

Lexa had no intention of coming back with her.

Clarke had thought that the gravitational pull between them would have changed Lexa's mind, but she had been fooled by a level of optimism she should have known she could not trust. Clarke had had this irrational hope that their love would be enough, that Lexa's words about building forever were real, but now she laughed bitterly at herself.

"Are you leaving because of it? Because you think I can't handle the truth of you hurting yourself?" Clarke asked with a small voice.

Lexa was repulsed by the idea that Clarke would think it was her fault. Lexa hated that she had acted in a way that would ever suggest this.

"Of course not. I'm leaving because I need to go."

"That's a stupid answer and you know it."

Clarke didn't know if it was because they were talking in the middle of the night or if it was because she had spent so much energy to remain in control so far that she had none left, but she felt the anger bubbling back to the surface. She didn't even try to hold it back anymore.

She had a right to know why Lexa thought saying goodbye was better than coming back home. She had a right to know why, after everything they'd been through, Lexa still didn't want to stay with her. She demanded to know why, despite nights of moaning each other's name, days of breathing each other's presence, evenings of whispering hopes and dreams to each other, Lexa still needed to leave her behind.

She had to know because she was hopelessly in love with Lexa and she knew she would not survive the ache in her heart if they parted ways. She needed to know because she had poured all of her energy into this relationship, this miracle of a relationship, and Lexa would throw it all away in three days.

She had to know because they belonged together and Lexa acted like they didn't.

She had to know because she loved Lexa and Lexa loved her, and it was all that really mattered, and the girl in front of her seemed to have forgotten it.

In a perfect world, it would have been all that really mattered. But they didn't live in a perfect world. They lived in a corrupted universe and the air surrounding them would never be pure to breathe.

"You said you didn't want to live in the past anymore. Was it a lie? The words about wanting forever, about wanting to be remembered, if you meant them, how can you just leave?"

"Just because I do not wish to live in the past anymore does not mean it's done. I am not at this point yet. I have work to do, things to process, memories to accept."

"So do I and you don't see me walking away from the greatest thing that has ever happened to the both of us since we lost people that mattered to us."

Her words were dipped in poison and Clarke didn't care anymore. Lexa said beautiful things, created dreams with her speeches and transformed Clarke's world with her actions. But right now, Lexa was being selfish and her words were spears that were piercing through Clarke's heart.

And maybe Lexa had her ideas about what was wrong and right in her life. Maybe Lexa thought she knew what was best for her. Maybe Lexa had this idealized idea of how her life should be. Or maybe she was simply blinded by what she had been taught by life.

Clarke would not let Lexa go without a fight.

"What do you need?" Clarke asked with a voice tired of not obtaining clear answers.

"I need to find myself. I know how it sounds. I know it sounds like an excuse. I'm sorry. I cannot offer you anything but words right now. I know they are not enough. I cannot go home. Not yet. But I promise you, this is not the end."

"I can help you."

Lexa shook her head sadly.

Despite so many years, so many experiences proving her theories wrong, she still believed she had to rely on herself only. She remembered when she had reached a point in her life when no one was around, when even her closest friends had turned their backs to her, when her second family had looked at her with eyes that showed how empty they were after Costia's death.

Staying with them had only meant facing her greatest failure everyday, remembering her mistakes, realizing the love she once felt was now tainted with the vilest poison. Her social support had fallen apart and she had learned to keep walking the hard way.

Asking Clarke to put her back together felt like putting her life into the blonde's hands. And what if she could not be fixed? What if Clarke kept trying and trying until she had no energy left, exhausting herself for a lost cause, collapsing at Lexa's feet until she lost herself as well?

Lexa would never steal Clarke's energy, even if the blonde was willing to offer it to her, even if she kept claiming it was impossible to go through life alone. It was possible to go through life alone. Lexa believed it was. It was the hardest thing, but she had done it for a long time.

The green eyed woman was certain this would not be the both of them trying to be better together, but rather one of them pulling the other constantly toward the wrong direction. Lexa thought, no, she was sure that she would end up dragging Clarke towards hell.

Lexa felt the weight of her decisions pressing against her chest.

"Listen to yourself," Clarke falsely laughed. "Do you think we are in some movie? Do you think it's romantic to break someone just because you have to go find yourself? Do you believe it's deep and full of philosophical shit to just walk away without a word? We didn't even talk about it."

"We are talking."

Clarke could feel the tears burning her eyes. She feared she wouldn't recognize herself if she spoke out loud. She feared she would become a monster if she let her soul speak freely.

"I can't go through another goodbye," Clarke said harshly. "You can't decide when a relationship is convenient and expect me to just follow your lead. Not this time. I have a say. We're in a relationship. I know you care. You know I care. You can't just decide you want something and not ask me about it."

Clarke let go of Lexa's hand and green eyes filled with worries.

"Clarke. This is not what I want. I wish I could keep you. I wish we could be together the way we both want to. I wish I could wake up everyday by your side. I wish I could kiss you whenever I want, embrace you whenever you want. But I'm not at this point. I don't trust me with you."

"Clearly I won't stay if you don't even give me the chance to."

"I don't trust myself around you. I don't trust myself to not hurt myself when things get bad, when everything goes out of control. I don't trust myself to keep you safe emotionally. I don't trust my ability to care for you the way you deserve to."

"I can decide what I want for myself. And I want you. I need you, Lexa, don't do this."

Clarke was begging and she felt weak. But if being weak was what it took for Lexa to truly see it would lead them nowhere to separate, then Clarke would be the weakest person on earth. She didn't wait for Lexa's answer and continued with a shaky voice.

"You're not supposed to be in control of everything. That's the thing. Life, love, they can't be controlled. They're unpredictable and beautiful and made of impulsions. You have to take chances. That's why they're magical. That's why people want to be in love. Because of the thrill. Without it, it's boring, it's useless. I'm not asking you to be in control. I want to be here when you have your highest highs and I will support you when you can't even stand by your own."

"I know."

Lexa knew. Lexa was sure Clarke would be there. But it was not what she needed.

"I'm grateful. I thank you for this, Clarke. But you have to let me go. It's something I feel I have to do. I don't want you to become the person I rely on. It has to be me. I have to trust myself first or it won't work. It will be doomed if I stay."

"You can't give me inspiring speeches and act the exact opposite way the next day!"

A flash of alertness flashed through Lexa's eyes and through her entire body as she realized how right Clarke was to accuse her of doing contradictory acts.

She was handling this all wrong. Tonight was a disaster. The kind of disaster that didn't leave place for seconds chances. But she had no idea how to explain her feelings to Clarke. She had no idea how she even felt at the moment. All that mattered was that she didn't want to leave Clarke. Not now, not ever.

"I will come back," Lexa repeated.

Her hand had never felt as cold and lifeless as it did at this precise moment.

Clarke scoffed at her words.

"Maybe I won't. Maybe I don't want to feel like I'm at your service. You can't just ask me to wait when I have no idea how long it would take for you to come back. You can't ask me to come back when you feel like you want me back. I'm not your puppet."

"You can't ask me to stay."

"I shouldn't have to ask you to stay. Because you care about me, remember? You can't leave and have me too. I can't exist at two places at once."

Lexa listened to the way water seemed to fall apart once it came in contact with the rocks. All she wanted was to protect Clarke from a similar fate if the blonde got too close to her darkest sides.

"What are we?" Clarke asked with lightning in her eyes. "What do you think we are? I think we are together. I think we belong together. I think you and I, we have something special, something different. You have no reason to be scared of losing me because I'm not the one walking away. But I will be if you act like this is just a game."

Lexa didn't answer.

She was terrified.

She was terrified she would lose Clarke tonight. She was paralyzed by the thought that she could ever hurt Clarke, even unintentionally. She didn't want to spend everyday wondering whether or not she would hurt Clarke.

She was stuck in a corner. If she stayed with Clarke, the urge to leave would win sooner or later, and she would only move the heartbreak for the future. She felt it in her entire being. She had to keep moving. She had to keep walking, running, travelling. She could not settle yet. Her soul was not made to stay at one place.

This was not a game. This had never been a game to her.

If Lexa left, Clarke would not be waiting for her. The blonde had made her point loud and clear. So clear that Lexa felt a crystal dagger pointed at her heart, ready to pierce it any moment now.

"It's not a game to me. It's everything. But Clarke, I am not complete yet."

"Change your speech, you're repeating yourself and I'm sick of it."

Lexa obeyed the only star she would ever stare at.

"You put the stars in the sky and the life on earth. You smile and everything becomes brighter. You showed me how to make dreams come true and how to travel in time. You transformed the impossible into something possible. You touched me without using your hands. You changed me without even meaning to. You made me believe in things I thought no longer existed in my life. You are the reason I wake up in the morning thinking that this day will be great. You are the reason I want to be better. You reminded me that I existed, that I was alive, that living was more than surviving. You made me trust life again. I owe you so much, Clarke. I owe you more than you will ever know."

Clarke kept repeating the same question over and over in her mind, like a broken record that could never be stopped.

Why leave? Why ask for misery to visit them when there was no reason to?

Why ask for a broken heart when they both knew it might never heal again?

Why ask for pain when they loathed it?

"Then why leave?"

"Because I have learned that love is not enough."

It was as if she was saying those three words and Clarke's heart stopped for a minute.

"Even with me?"

Lexa exhaled the ache in her heart.

She controlled herself today. But what about tomorrow?

The simple fact that she had doubts about tomorrow told her that she was not ready to be fully with someone.

She would never ask her blonde nemesis to care for her, when caring included thinking of the possibility Lexa might hurt herself. She would never ask Clarke to protect her from herself. It was not Clarke's responsibility. She would never put this weight on her lover's shoulders. If she lost control, she would not give the guilt to Clarke to bear.

Lexa knew Clarke would blame herself if she cut. She knew Clarke would think she was not enough. She knew Clarke would be reminded of her previous losses every second of every day.

Clarke was not ready to spend days and weeks and months watching her words, wondering if she was doing the right thing, wondering if her support was enough, hoping that it was enough. She couldn't spend her energy on Lexa, couldn't change the course of her own life to care for Lexa's. She couldn't dismiss her own life for Lexa's. She couldn't spend years fearing not being enough for Lexa. She couldn't spend decades feeling responsible if something happened in the end.

Lexa would never ask Clarke to watch over her when she knew it could destroy her.

She would never put her demons in Clarke's hands.

"Clarke…"

"No, shut up."

Lexa's eyes widened at the words but Clarke continued emotionally before she could interrupt.

"I've had enough, Lexa. You talk about how important I am to you, you talk how special we are, but then you say that love is not enough for you to just stay with me. Which is true? Both cannot be true at the same time."

"They are."

"They can't. Don't you hear how ridiculous it sounds? Do you even care about me? That. That is all that matters. Whether or not you care enough about me to not leave me behind. Whether or not you care enough about me to not hurt me whenever things don't go well. Because that's what you do, Lexa. You hurt me."

Lexa swallowed the guilt.

Hurting Clarke was the last thing she wanted to do.

And yet, she knew it was all she kept doing. It was all she did, even if she tried so hard not to. Again and again, like a broken record, except she was a broken person who could not find the right way to balance every aspect of her life. It didn't matter the words she used or the actions she made, she was the cause of the rage and sadness twirling in blue eyes right now.

But Lexa didn't see things the simple way. She saw extreme opposites. She saw a future spent being entirely dependent on Clarke or one in which she was condemned to walk alone. She saw a tomorrow as a day voided of any marks on her wrists or as a crimson poppy field. She saw herself as strong or weak, as standing by her own or crawling across the ground. And she thought she was deeply in love with Clarke, but what if it was the complete opposite? The thought made her shiver.

The middle did not exist. Compromises did not exist. In her world, it was all or nothing.

"You destroy everything we've built because you think you'll be better off alone than with me. But look at the facts. You've never been happier. I've never been happier. And you're willing to throw it all away because you're scared I won't stick around as soon as things get hard. But I'm here. I've been here all the time and I don't plan on leaving. And where are you? You're not with me. You don't get to say love is not enough when you can't even admit you love me."

Lexa flinched.

Why couldn't she say those words out loud to Clarke when she had let them out when she had spoken with Anya, just a few days before?

Her breathing became louder. She felt her lungs refusing to cooperate, to let her live. She was choking, but her facial expression remained unshaken.

"I love you."

Clarke's voice remained steady as she confessed what they both already knew. She had nothing to fear and nothing to lose but Lexa, and she would do everything she could to avoid losing her.

She loved Lexa and every one of her flaws. She loved the way Lexa whispered her name, the way she bruised her body with kisses, the way she looked at her like no one else mattered. She loved the way Lexa's eyes darkened at the sight of conflict, the way her voice raised when she wanted to make her point, the way her tone shifted to annoyance when boundaries were crossed. She loved decrypting the hidden world in her eyes and the way she could convey everything with a simple nod. She loved the way Lexa would walk as slowly as possible when they were on their way back at the end of the day, the way she ran towards the world as another would start.

She loved Lexa, the warrior and the survivor.

She had also fallen for Lexa, the lost soul .

Lexa read her mind and understood, but she could only remain quiet at the silent words.

She wanted to say those words back but she knew she would be selfish. She couldn't tell Clarke those words and at the same time, ask for her to let her go. She couldn't tell Clarke she loved her when she had just said love wasn't enough. She couldn't tell Clarke those three little words because what if her eyes did not convey the same message as Clarke's? What if those words coming out of her words didn't sound just as perfect as they did from Clarke's?

She angrily scolded herself in her head. She made things complicated when reality could be so much easier.

And she thought, maybe she did love Clarke and she did have feelings for her. Maybe it was stronger than what she once felt for Costia.

And still, maybe they weren't deep enough. Maybe the way she loved Clarke was different from the way Clarke loved her.

She was wrong, but she was too blinded by the wrong possibilities to realize it.

"I will always be with you."

No matter the distance.

No matter how many miles separated them.

Even if Clarke didn't wait.

And right now, Clarke didn't wait.

"It's not enough," the blonde mirrored Lexa's words.

She shook her head as if everything was a joke. She glanced toward Lexa before she got up and walked away, her blonde hair flowing with the salted air's rhythm. She walked fast, never looking back, almost as if doing so would make her run back into Lexa's arms.

Lexa watched her, hoping tomorrow would come faster so she could allow herself to run after Clarke. She remained immobile.

Lexa stayed there all night, listening to the beating of her heart, hearing her fragile organ crashing as the waves came to die on the rocks. She remembered every single step she had taken since she had first talked with Clarke. All the cities. All the countries. All the miles separating them until they didn't anymore.

She closed her eyes and recalled the way the grandiose New York City had seemed empty without Clarke's answers. She remembered the way she had felt when she had first met Clarke's path, the way she knew everything would be different. She remembered the countless nights she had spent awake, her face illuminated by the bright light of her phone.

She remembered how safe she felt with Clarke's hand in hers and a picture flashed in her mind. A single poem that she had taken in picture as Clarke kept rushing her to visit another beauty of the world. Lexa whispered the tale of a great vessel that was meant for glory but couldn't escape a tragic fate, and almost cried at how similar it sounded to her life, to her relationship, to herself.

She wondered if everything had just been a miraculous dream.

If felt like a dream.

It hurt like a nightmare.

* * *

 **Le vaisseau d'or, by Emile Nelligan, is a famous poem. It is the one Lexa took in picture while being on vacation in Montreal. It is the one mentionned at the end of the chapter.**

 **Here is the French version, followed by the English translation.**

 _ **Ce fut un grand Vaisseau taillé dans l'or massif:**  
_

 _ **Ses mâts touchaient l'azur, sur des mers inconnues;**  
_

 _ **La Cyprine d'amour, cheveux épars, chairs nues**  
_

 _ **S'étalait à sa proue, au soleil excessif.**_

 _ **Mais il vint une nuit frapper le grand écueil**_

 _ **Dans l'Océan trompeur où chantait la Sirène,**_

 _ **Et le naufrage horrible inclina sa carène**_

 _ **Aux profondeurs du Gouffre, immuable cercueil.**_

 _ **Ce fut un Vaisseau d'Or, dont les flancs diaphanes**_

 _ **Révélaient des trésors que les marins profanes,**_

 _ **Dégoût, Haine et Névrose, entre eux ont disputés.**_

 _ **Que reste-t-il de lui dans la tempête brève?**_

 _ **Qu'est devenu mon coeur, navire déserté?**_

 _ **Hélas! Il a sombré dans l'abîme du Rêve!**_

 _ **The Golden Ship**_

 ** _It was a great ship built of solid gold  
_**

 ** _Its masts reached to the skies on uncharted seas  
_**

 ** _The Goddess of Love, her hair streaming, her flesh bare,  
_**

 ** _Flaunted herself on the prow beneath a blazing sun.  
_**

 ** _Then one night it struck the great reef  
_**

 ** _In that treacherous ocean where the Siren sang,  
_**

 ** _And the horrible shipwreck cast its keel  
_**

 ** _To the depths of the abyss, a changeless coffin.  
_**

 ** _It was a Golden Ship whose diaphanous sides  
_**

 ** _Revealed treasures which those profane mariners,  
_**

 ** _Loathing, Hate and Neurosis, disputed among themselves.  
_**

 ** _What remains of it in the brief tempest ?  
_**

 ** _What has become of my heart, deserted ship ?  
_**

 ** _Alas ! It has foundered in the depths of the Dream !_**


	11. Oceans

**Hello people,**

 **PREPARE! YOUR! FEELS!**

 **This chapter is shorter but you'll probably be glad it is.**

 **Inspired a little by the song Oceans by Seafret.**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa for proofreading.**

* * *

 **Oceans**

Clarke kicked a rock on her way to the hotel, not looking back once. It bounced and stayed there, waiting for the artist to catch up and kick it again violently. It skipped a few meters and went to rest against a lone tree. Clarke dragged it with her feet and hit it again, always harder, trying to make it fly as far as possible. She imagined it was Lexa's torturous words and sent it to the middle of the road amongst the racing cars.

She walked past the lobby with her head down, trying to hide her red eyes. She was exhausted and prayed not to pass out in the elevator as she pressed the button for the wrong floor. She waited until forever and when she finally arrived in the empty hallway that lead to her room, she couldn't find the strength to move. Her room was only a few seconds away but the road seemed miles away, endless.

She felt empty, as if Lexa had stolen her energy and kept it with her at the shore. The wall appeared the most comfortable wall in the world and all she could do was lean on it and close her eyes. She hit her head against the wall but the hurt didn't change anything. She sighed loudly, dreading Raven's reaction to the situation.

She managed to reach the door and enter the room. The faint light of the moon was barely visible through the curtains. Raven was deep in sleep and Clarke wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. The blonde sat on the edge of her bed. She hadn't slept in her room for days. The bed felt cold and lifeless, foreign. The air in the room felt glacial despite the tropical weather.

She hated how complicated her life had become in just a few hours.

Clarke wished she was capable of hating someone.

She wished she could hate Lexa.

She wished she could hate her, ban her existence, pray for her to be gone. She wished she could hate her so she wouldn't have to go through such pain right now. She wished she could hate her so she wouldn't be staying awake at four in the morning, crying and begging for a different outcome, suffocating while trying so hard to breathe. She wished she could kick her feelings out of her mind as easily as she had slammed the hotel door. She wished she didn't care so much so it would stop torturing her.

But Clarke could never hate Lexa, not in this world, not in any reality.

Clarke was born to feel, to care, to worry, to love. Clarke was born to love and it was her personal tragedy in the early hours of the morning.

She wished she could hate Lexa for making such a selfish choice and then asking her if she would wait.

She didn't want to wait. Who knew how long she'd have to wait until she even heard from Lexa again? She didn't want to wait and yet, there was no other option in the artist's head than waiting for Lexa. Even if she didn't care, Clarke was meant to care. Even if she didn't wait, she would wait. There wasn't a choice to be made, no matter how many times Clarke thought about it.

Loving Lexa was not a choice either. It had always been the most natural thing for her to do. It was currently both a blessing and a curse.

She thought that maybe if she could find the will to hate Lexa, the pain would leave her alone. She thought if she could stop crying hopelessly while Raven was sleeping peacefully next to her, the hurt would stop. She shrugged when she realized Raven had specifically warned her about this, months ago after a simple phone call from Octavia. She should have listened. She wouldn't be there cursing her life. She believed hating someone was easier than loving them.

But was it really easier to hate someone than to love them? The line between the two is thin, blurred, so easily crossed. It can never be that simple.

Both make people stay up at night, wondering what their next move should be. Both make people scream from anger and laugh from joy. Both make people deaf, blind, mute, paralyzed and so incredibly strong at the same time. Both make people care. Both make people notice the other, pay attention to everything they do. Both drive people crazy by taking over the control of their thoughts.

Both make people incredibly human.

There is no peace of mind in either of these cases. There is a constant flux of ideas regarding the other. Love and hate, both push people to do the best and worst kind of things. Both cannot be ignored, cannot be taken lightly.

In fact, Love is so often mistaken with hate that no one truly can tell the difference anymore.

Clarke was trying not to confuse the two, but she could already not see clearly. She kept asking the room if she could hate Lexa rather than love her, but it was always her beating heart that gave her the answer, and it wasn't the one she wanted to hear.

Love and hate are both consequences of caring too much and too little at the same time. They both have the power to change, to control, to ruin one's destiny. They both affect one's perception, twisting it to a hell made of heavenly islands.

People hate in the name of love, starting wars and destroying others.

Love and hate were too intimately related to exist without one another.

Clarke could pretend she hated Lexa all she wanted, she would always love her more.

Even if she didn't love her, she would be immensely and undeniably under Lexa's spell.

She could do nothing but wish for things to be different. They would never be.

* * *

It was the end of the world.

It was the end of the world, the Big Crunch of the universe, the farewell to humanity.

Everywhere, wars stood on the corpses of thousands of innocent victims, decimated villages and cities, broke families apart. Blood was spilled and the only red color that remained behind reminded people that love was not enough to spare them from violence. Screams were heard from miles away and only the whispers of the ghosts left behind reminded people life once inhabited those lands.

Everywhere, crimes were committed against men, women, children, minorities. Those crimes might not always end in death, but they murdered one's dignity and left them broken. Rape, slavery, torture, abuse, these words ruled the greatest communities of this planet. Laws were never enough to stop them. Laws would never be enough to restore one's trust in society after they were left with nothing but their shadow to talk to.

Everywhere, humans took the environment for granted. They decimated forests, exterminated species, destroyed lands, wasted resources and poisoned the source of life itself. They claimed nature was nothing compared to their technology. They never realized the balance of the world was in danger. They simply fed the gasp and ignored all the monstrous corporations that dig more holes in the food chain.

Yes, it was the end of the world.

And all Lexa cared about was that Clarke was no longer by her side. It was the only thing that refused to leave her mind.

She stayed on the rock until she couldn't sit anymore and only moved when she fell head first into the ocean. The cold water wasn't enough to wake her up from this nightmare.

She wished everything that had happened was just a dream, an illusion. She wished she could delete all the little pieces of her life that made her become this kind of person, but she knew too well that she would not exist without them. Her losses made her the person she was. She wouldn't know herself without them. She wouldn't recognize herself.

She wished being different, acting differently, wasn't so frightening. She wished those parts of her didn't have so much control on her behavior and state of mind. If she could tell them to shut up, she would, but she had no more voice to scream after them. She had to listen to them. She had to finish what she had started, finish her journey in the world.

But losing Clarke terrified her.

More than the possibility of relapse, more than the sight of blood escaping her wrist, more than the call of knives in the middle of the night or the idea of lying six feet under, the thought of losing Clarke was greater than all of them.

The world could end right now, at this very second, and Lexa would remain immobile, staring at the ocean and dreaming about Clarke.

The past had shaped her behavior and the future's expectations chained her to the same place, and Lexa realized she had no idea how to live in the present, how to fully appreciate Clarke's presence. She ignored how to focus on the moment, only spending all of her energy fighting against her own thoughts.

She was constantly fighting a war she had no idea how she had started in the first place. She never felt the pure joy she longed for.

It was like living in a dream, never fully reaching reality, but always brushing its hands and crazing a bite of it. Lexa even wondered if the past week had just been that, a dream. An illusion in which she was allowed to have happiness until it was taken away from her, once again. A story in which she was simply a secondary character, not important enough to be given the chance at love.

The only times she could focus on the present was when Clarke's body was pressing against hers, and Lexa knew that it was not enough. It was not enough for her to hold onto.

She was made of contradictions and all of them wanted to win. One part of her wanted to stay with Clarke and remake history, and the other told her to just go.

Lexa felt the glacial water spilling against her ankles as the sea came to life. She wiped a tear from her face when she realized Clarke's steps were no longer visible in the sand.

The clocks were ticking. Lexa could not allow Clarke to take a break, for they would soon be separated again. Had the circumstances been different, Lexa would have gladly given time for Clarke to remain apart.

Lexa couldn't just wish for things to be different anymore. She had to make them different.

* * *

Lexa didn't sleep much that night, nor did Clarke.

It was the last day they would spend in this country. The last twenty-four hours. The final sprint to the finish line.

Lexa waited for Anya to wake up just so she could pretend everything was still perfect on her side of the planet during their daily conversation. Clarke waited for Raven to wake up but was unable to hide the pain from her eyes, and the young mechanic student spent the whole morning chasing tears away. All it took was for Clarke to whisper that Octavia had been right for Raven to understand the implications.

Lexa wandered around the beach with the hope of catching sight of Clarke, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen, and the brunette could only walk and walk and walk until she couldn't stand on her own anymore.

Clarke was dragged by a babbling Raven to the mall, and was forced to play arcade and eat all kinds of unknown foods, never slowing down for one minute, always keeping her mind as busy as possible.

Lexa closed her eyes and chased the sleep she never had the previous night, but was unable to put her soul at ease. Clarke was kept wide awake all day despite feeling trapped between the world of livings and the land of the Styx.

Lexa collapsed on a deserted side of the beach, away from the curious looks the world could throw her, and spent the rest of the day tracing Clarke's name in the sand, only for it to be taken away by the waves.

Clarke overdosed on sugar in a chocolate factory that Raven had found the same morning and her hyperactive self spent the rest of the day hallucinating Lexa's presence everywhere she went, hearing her when she wasn't there, seeing her when there was no one.

The hours passed by, erasing the bitterness of the previous night, and soon, only the emptiness remained behind. The emptiness one could only feel when someone special was missing. Nothing Lexa could think about was enough to diminish Clarke's presence in her mind, and no matter how loud Raven tried to be, the artist could never hear her fully.

The past hours played on repeat in their minds. Every word exchanged, every slight change of tone, every look that hid the rawness of their feeling, every touch of their hands, it was overwhelming. Lexa could not find a way to fix the situation and she was way too aware of the minutes slipping away, bringing her closer to her imminent departure. The thought of leaving the country without fixing things with Clarke broke her. She would not survive it.

She thought a lot. She spent the day thinking and pondering about who she was and wasn't. She spent hours talking to the past version of herself and whispering the future. She made choices. She dismissed possibilities. She changed her options. She played with the ideas in her mind and recalled everything Clarke had told her since their very first meeting.

She thought about her love for Clarke, all the reasons it existed and all the reasons it wasn't enough to make her go back with her lover. She couldn't ignore either side.

She thought about Clarke, about her vulnerabilities and her forces. She thought about Clarke's inner beauty and unforgettable figure. She shivered when a warm breeze caressed her skin the way Clarke's breath did during their night of passion. She wiped a tear when the image of Clarke's shattered world flashed through her mind, the pain the artist had been through, the suffering they both tried to survive.

She heard Clarke's voice in her mind and her entire body clenched at the defeated tone. She listened to the words the blonde was saying. They sounded clearer without the weight of the moon on her back. They echoed in her soul and destroyed little parts of her, and built different pieces to complete the puzzle.

She screamed until her vocal cords couldn't whisper anymore. She yelled until her throat burned violently. She kept going in her head, until even her imaginary voice had no energy left to spend. Only then did she listen to the silence, to her silence.

Without Clarke, Lexa was mute. No words were important enough to be pronounced if Clarke wasn't there to hear them. Nothing Lexa could say mattered unless Clarke was there to answer. She spoke out loud to no one in particular, waiting for an answer that never seemed to come, until it came.

She thought about how much she loved Clarke.

It made her heart ache.

She thought about her bag back in the hotel room. She imagined it empty of the presence of the pocket knife.

It made her heart flutter.

She knew what to do. She couldn't fix what was said and done, but she could try to make things better before she left.

The sun was starting to go down in the horizon and she was a few hours away from the hotel, but she still had mobile connection. She begged the world for an answer even if she felt she didn't deserve one. She could never blame Clarke for her silence.

 _Clarke. Can we talk?_

Lexa knew that Clarke knew her departure was scheduled for the next day. It was now or never, and Lexa hated saying 'never'. She stared at her screen, wondering if she should have sent something longer, some apologies, anything to make Clarke understand how terrible she felt. But Lexa wasn't one to say important things by text when the 'face to face' option existed. She had enough of hiding behind a screen.

She wanted Clarke, not a virtual message from Clarke.

Clarke had a choice. She could ignore Lexa or answer. But even if she wanted to ignore Lexa, she would answer, again and again, until her phone didn't have any battery left. And when her phone would die, she would write letters until her pens ran out of ink. And when every pen on earth would be voided of ink, she would move the clouds into invisible letters to convey her feelings. And when the world would end, she would still find a way to move the stars and communicate with her lover.

The longest minute of Lexa's life ended when her phone came to life with a loud beep, and Lexa emerged from the depth of a sea she hadn't realized she'd been dying in.

 _ **I miss you.**_

Those three words resonated within Lexa's soul more than the moment Clarke had told her she loved her.

Lexa missed Clarke more than she loved her. The feeling of craving someone's presence was the only one that could surpass love.

Lexa sprinted to the hotel at midnight. Her silhouette shone bright under the moonlight as she raced through the buzzing streets. She slammed her room's door after she ran inside to grab her knife. She didn't feel her hand tremble around the object anymore. It was a steady connection between her finger and the wooden hilt. It was a connection she was meant to break from the moment she had let blood flood the first time.

Their separation was more than due. It wouldn't hurt.

Lexa's steps echoed in the empty hallway and she strangely felt like she was part of some horror movie. She could hear the walls whispering, putting doubts in her head. She could feel the floor ready to swallow her alive. She could feel the ceiling ready to crush her down to the center of the earth. She could smell the scent of blood. The drops she thought existed uniquely in the past now came back to haunt her.

It was the ultimate goodbye.

It was like saying farewell to an old friend and an ancient enemy at the same time.

She walked faster. She couldn't slow down now. Not now, not ever. She couldn't turn back. She couldn't find rescue in blood anymore. She tried to steady her respiration, but if she slowed it down, she was afraid air would run out and she would not get enough oxygen to survive. She felt her skin be covered by a thin layer of sweat and hoped her anxiety wasn't too noticeable.

She paced for three minutes in front of the door that lead to a balcony that resembled the one they had talked on only a few days ago. She knew Clarke was waiting. Waiting for her to walk in. Waiting for an explanation. Waiting for an apology. Waiting for something.

And Lexa was finally ready to offer her the truth.

She opened the door in a fluid movement and immediately felt the familiar tingle in her veins that told her Clarke had her eyes on her. It turned her sanity to mush. She could never think properly with Clarke around, but she focused on the right words, on the right tone, on her love. She focused on the fact that this was her last chance to make things right.

Lexa didn't flinch under the indifferent, almost empty look Clarke gave her. She knew better than to believe it. And she knew she deserved it.

"Clarke. Thank you for seeing me."

Saying Clarke's name felt like taking a bite of love itself. It exploded in her mouth and filled her life with the most exquisite savors. She could feed on it for the rest of her existence, and god did she want to.

The blonde nodded. She didn't move closer to Lexa when the taller woman moved the chair so they could face each other. She didn't react when Lexa's hand held hers, but she felt the dozens electric shocks run from her head to toes. It sparked her soul back to reality, the one in which she loved Lexa so deeply that she could never truly be mad at her. She craved the contact like nothing before. She would never admit it, but fighting the urge to kiss Lexa and take her right now was all that occupied her mind.

It was the main reason why she hated the situation the most. If she couldn't go a day without Lexa, how would it go if they spent more time apart? The simple thought crushed her entire being.

She waited for Lexa to speak. She could only imagine the turmoil going under Lexa's skull. She could only hope they would not leave more broken than they already were.

Lexa took a deep breath and her emerald eyes settled their sight on the person she now called home.

"Not here," Lexa whispered.

They left the hotel in the middle of the night to find refuge on the shore, waves breaking around them.

The silence welcomed them when they sat on the familiar rock they now knew too well.

It looked like Lexa was in perfect control of her emotions, but inside, she was struggling against a geyser of feelings threatening to break her armors. She almost shrugged at herself, wishing she could just play it lightly and pretend it was the easiest conversation she'd ever have. But she owned Clarke more than a game.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I should have told you about myself before."

The murmur reached Clarke's ears and the blonde let out a sigh. She felt like whatever Lexa did now, she had already forgiven her.

"I wish you had told me."

"I know. I'm sorry," Lexa repeated. "I was so scared, Clarke. I was terrified."

Clarke nodded. She knew it was difficult for Lexa to admit this. Lexa would never let anyone know that she was afraid.

"I would have helped."

"There was nothing to do. It was my burden. I had to find an answer. I had to survive it my way. You helped, Clarke, more than you will ever know. I am forever indebted to you."

"No," the artist shook her head slowly. "You're the one who did it."

Lexa wanted to protest, wanted to claim that she would have never reached this point in her life without Clarke, but the glacial look she received stopped her from letting a word out. She tried to pour her thoughts into her eyes but Clarke ignored everything.

"I haven't cut for months," Lexa continued with a low voice. "I thought about it recently, but I didn't. I cannot give you a reason to explain why I thought about it. There is none, but the simple fact that I was at war with myself, and for a moment, it seemed like a good idea. I only keep one blade on me. One pocket knife. Always in my bag, within my reach."

Clarke's hand automatically clenched around Lexa's. Both pretended not to hear the way their heart almost jumped out of their chests.

"I ran from the past for a long time. I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore. I had no idea how to face it. I thought if I had a physical object to direct my anger to, I could attack the past too. I was wrong. I was blinded by the idea that I was to blame. I fought for a long time in a battle that was lost in advance. In a war that I didn't know how to stop. I fought against myself for reasons that didn't even exist."

Lexa blinked. She had a speech prepared. She had words. She had rationality. She had everything ready, but suddenly, the words didn't seem enough anymore. The words didn't seem fitting for the situation anymore. The perfect speech shattered and the current flew naturally instead.

"I care about you, Clarke. And perhaps you no longer believe me because of what I said yesterday but I do not wish to harm you in any way. I do not want you to relive the past the way I did for a long time. I will spend my life protecting you from this fate."

Lexa paused, allowing Clarke to interrupt her, but only silence welcomed her. Silence and the disappearance of emptiness from Clarke's eyes.

Lexa let go of Clarke's hand, and both women resisted the urge to link them again. She reached into her pocket for her knife.

She felt it with her fingers, hidden from the world, from Clarke. She traced the outlines of the blade, felt the wood under her skin, remembered the sound it made when it clicked open. It took about two seconds for her to do this ritual and when it was over, she didn't open it. She presented it to Clarke.

"I swear fealty to you, Clarke. I vow to protect you from the choices I've made in the past."

Her words signed a contract. A promise that she would never break. A promise she would die for. Lexa did not show any trace of hesitation when she put her weapon into Clarke's hand and closed the blonde's fingers over it. She let go of it.

"I promise you, this is the only one," she said while never looking away from Clarke. "This is the last one. I will not confuse the past and the present and hurt myself anymore. Costia was my past. My wounds are part of my past. But you, Clarke, are my present."

Clarke closed her eyes. The air was easier to breathe. The atmosphere wasn't heavy anymore. Her heart wasn't imprisoned anymore.

"I can throw it in the ocean then?" Clarke asked.

"I would have done it myself, but I wanted you to decide its fate. I wanted you to know that it doesn't control me anymore."

Clarke nodded slowly. Everything that was said, and every word left in the dark circled them again, trapped them. The absence of proximity during the day had put both women on edge. They were irrevocably pulled toward one another and the resistance was becoming harder and harder with each passing second.

"This is important to me," the artist murmured. "This is so important. Thank you."

Lexa nodded slowly, breathing in the salted air like it was the antidote to her anxiety.

"I apologize for the way I behaved. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know."

The loaded silence put its weight over them, but never crushed them. It wouldn't anymore. They knew each other. They saw each other. They offered themselves to the other.

Clarke repeated Lexa's words in her head and she found herself falling again for the taller woman. Everything Lexa did made her heart beat faster. Every word Lexa pronounced made her listen carefully even if she had something else in mind. It was like she was wired to focus on Lexa, no matter what.

Lexa's words could heal the world.

Clarke could never stop being amazed by her wisdom, by her compassion, by her strength.

She reached for Lexa's cheek and cupped it with her right hand. Lexa immediately lost herself in the touch. Clarke offered the sweetest smile to her lover, one that illustrated how deep her feelings existed within herself.

"You're not in that war against yourself anymore. You've got me now," Clarke whispered as she slowly moved closer. "Your fight is over."

Lexa's entire life blossomed at this last sentence.

The touch of their lips put all their previous kisses to shame. This time, they truly felt the blow of the fireworks in their head shaking the universe. Their senses were driven by the simple kiss that conveyed everything they could not put into words.

Clarke felt Lexa asking for entrance and gladly obliged, letting the taller woman take control. She felt the way Lexa bit lightly at her lower lip and memorized the gentle touch of her tongue against hers. She felt surrounded by Lexa's scent and the hand resting softly the back of her neck did nothing to help her regain contact with her surroundings. She answered the kiss with more energy and they battled for the taste of one another as if it was their only goal in life.

The lines between them became blurred as they breathed each other's air and stole each other's energy.

They only separated when they needed air to live, even though they felt like they could survive only with the other's gentle touch. They barely spent a second apart before Lexa pulled them closer again, her hand pressing behind Clarke's head to deepen the kiss. Lexa felt she could die from Clarke's taste in her mouth.

Lexa had the strange feeling that she was dying, but not in the way Clarke had asked her a few days ago. She was dying to live again, and slowly, she was rediscovering the joys of being close to someone. Slowly, she was leaving the "dying" part behind and focusing on the world ahead.

Even while their tongues sucking each other in perfect synchrony, they still managed to miss each other, they still managed to wish to be impossibly closer to one another.

Clarke's quiet moan sent tremors to Lexa's body, awakening parts of her she didn't even know existed. It took a promise in the form of Clarke's hand wandering between her thighs for Lexa to pull back and speak again. She struggled to not choke on her words, trying to reach back a reality that didn't currently have Clarke's head between her legs, drinking her sanity away.

"I'm not done," Lexa panted softly, slowly pushing Clarke's hand away.

Her swollen lips barely let the words escape. Her green eyes betrayed her thoughts and Clarke crossed her arms protectively around herself.

She knew. She knew what Lexa was going to ask her. It was inevitable and she could not avoid it.

And Lexa found herself shaking her head again at herself, at how she always seemed to ruin the perfect moment.

Lexa was racing through the world at light speed. She was in a mission to finish what she had started and she couldn't stop now. She had been chasing the wrong dream for the past months, but now she knew what, or who, to chase. She knew who to fight for. And yet, she couldn't stop abruptly and change everything without risking breaking her neck. She needed time to slow down in a fluid motion.

She was ready to come back, but she needed to slow down first.

"I need two months," Lexa continued, trying to make eye contact with the girl who kept looking away.

"No."

The answer was shot from Clarke's heart. There was no hesitation. There was a plea for Lexa to stop asking this. In her head, Clarke was begging Lexa to stay, and Lexa kept ignoring her.

"You can't force me to stay," Lexa said.

"You can't force me to wait."

Lexa nodded sadly.

"I know. I am asking you."

Clarke said nothing for many minutes. She could not say anything because she was too busy trying to soothe the ache she felt in her soul, trying to understand the logic behind Lexa's actions. There seem to be none but she trusted Lexa to do the right thing, despite the tear in her soul.

The tears were about to fall and she focused her energy on blocking them within her eyes. She stared in the distance, focusing on the lights shining from the horizon. She tried to ignore the pain, but it kept knocking at her door until she had no choice but to answer. She tried to ignore the love she felt toward Lexa, but it kept tearing her walls apart, giving her no chance to reach protection.

It didn't matter what beautiful speech was just said. It didn't matter what confessions were whispered in the comfort of their private bubble. It didn't matter if Clarke was ready to be in a relationship for the first time in years. There were things that couldn't be explained in this world, and this was one of them. Clarke was ready to go back and Lexa wasn't.

Lexa inexplicably needed to finish what she had started before heading back in her hometown. She had taken a huge step forwards by getting free of the knife's influence, but she couldn't take another one.

No word would not stop Lexa from going East and Clarke from going West.

"Two months is too long," Clarke miserably answered.

She knew she could not stop Lexa. Even if she didn't want Lexa to go, Lexa would leave.

Clarke could not bear the thought of Lexa leaving without them being reconciled.

"A month and a half," Lexa replied tentatively.

"Five weeks."

Lexa hesitantly nodded.

"Five weeks."

Five weeks was too long, but it was less than two months. Clarke could only desperately hang on to that thought with the hope that Lexa would never need to say goodbye again after. She felt the pocket knife, still in her hand, and thought that at least, she could trust Lexa. She trusted her to come back. She trusted her to come back alive.

"I won't wait any longer," the artist warned.

"You won't need to," Lexa promised.

* * *

The taxi flew through the streets with the speed of a shooting star. It breezed past other cars, sneaking in the tiniest holes to beat the traffic. It moved past other vehicles quickly as usual, as if its driver was participating in a F1 competition. It moved too fast. Way too fast for the two women sitting silently in the back of the car.

They sat distanced from each other, looking through their respective window and pretending their perfect week wasn't coming to an end, pretending the taxi wasn't driving them back to their ultimate destination. They didn't even touch each other. They left the third place between them completely vacant, as if it was reserved for the immensity of their feelings, as if holding hands would break them down, open the gate to sorrows.

Lexa glanced furtively at Clarke and at the space between them, afraid to move closer. Clarke was beautiful. She didn't know how beautiful she was in Lexa's eyes and it was a shame. The blonde had no idea how much she mattered to the world, how much she brought by her mere presence, how much Lexa's heart kept losing control of its rhythm whenever their eyes met.

There was a storm in her mind. A tornado of letters, words, thoughts, every single one of them related to the imminent inevitable separation of the road they were travelling on. She kept replaying the week in her mind, editing the best moments, savoring the way they fit perfectly in the category of her most cherished memories. She sighed at all the little things she could've said instead, could've done instead, to make Clarke understand just how much she meant to her.

She shook her head at herself, fighting the wave of emotions punching her guts repeatedly. She wouldn't break down tonight. She wouldn't allow herself to break down. She wouldn't allow Clarke to see her falling apart, not when she wanted the blonde to remember her without tears in her eyes. She would give Clarke her brightest smile when the time came, because this was how it was supposed to go.

Smiles in their faces. Joy in their eyes. Love radiating around them.

Because they had spent an incredible week together and nothing would ever take it away from them, not even the most painful goodbye.

Lexa sighed deeply, trying to keep her feelings under control. The task required too much energy and she was exhausted. Emotionally exhausted. She turned to face Clarke, only to find the blonde's eyes fixated on her. Blue enveloped her and she felt her whole body shaking from the tension between them, the anticipation of the agony, the fear of the next hours.

The artist stared at Lexa like she was also thinking about everything they had been through. She looked at Lexa as if she was afraid to move closer, afraid moving closer meant accepting the fact that they were going to separate soon. She looked at Lexa like someone who refused reality. She looked at Lexa like she wanted to move closer but couldn't, so Lexa did it.

Lexa moved only a few centimeters closer to Clarke, but it was enough for the other woman to open her arms. Lexa's head rested on Clarke's shoulder as two strong arms embraced her and pulled her closer.

Lexa breathed in relief at the proximity. Clarke felt like the home she was searching for.

They remained silent the entire ride.

They remembered the best moments spent together.

They remained silent in the elevator.

They remembered their first kiss, their first date, their first night together.

They reminded silent in the hall on their way to the room.

They remembered the way it felt to be in love, the way they were currently being hit by the arrows of love.

The remained silent when Lexa opened the door to her hotel room, letting Clarke step inside before she did.

They remembered everything. It took a few minutes for the both of them to make the echo of their voices moaning each other's name vanish away. It took them time to stop the flashes of bodies intimately tangled together from appearing before their eyes. It took all their control to tame the memories of their limbs grinding against each other.

They remained silent as Clarke sat on the bed and watched Lexa slowly begin to pack her clothes. The taller woman was going as slowly as humanly possible, folding her shirts perfectly so there was not a single wrinkle, starting over and over again when it was not quite flawless.

They broke the silence only when Lexa finished zipping her luggage and turned to face Clarke, a little after midnight. Blue eyes had not left her all this time.

Lexa had tried to pack as slowly as she could, but her plane left in the morning and she had to be up around three in the morning already. She couldn't stall the inevitable any longer. She looked at Clarke. Her green eyes were full of emotions she couldn't control anymore, emptied of the usual cold mask she'd usually put on whenever things became too hard for her to bear. Her usual calm and steady posture was nowhere to be seen, and she had to sit on the bed, just as Clarke stood up.

They faced each other, Lexa sitting anxiously as Clarke hovered over her, and it reminded them too much of their first day here, when they had taken in the sight of each other for the first time in months. Lexa tried to memorize every line of the blonde's face, but too soon, Clarke's voice resonated against the wall of the room that held their fragile memories.

"I should go, let you rest."

Lexa knew Clarke was right. Lexa acted as if Clarke was wrong.

"I'm not tired," the taller woman whispered.

She wasn't tired. She was physically and mentally drained. She had no ounce of energy left. She was barely alive. But for Clarke, she would never be tired. She would always have the strength to surpass her limits.

"I should go," Clarke repeated.

Lexa understood. There was no need to avoid it any longer. They had promised each other there would be no long speeches about forever, no ugly crying, no begging of any sorts. There would be no desperate attempts at making love until they both couldn't walk anymore. It felt too much like a farewell. Instead, it would be a clean goodbye, a clean cut, a 'see you in a couple of weeks' murmured by both of them.

Clarke tried. She really tried to make it happen this way. She really tried to leave the room and let Lexa sleep a few hours. She really did her best to walk to the door, forcing herself to ignore the way Lexa's nods were hesitant, as if the other woman struggled to move her head. She tried to fight the urges to embrace Lexa and never let her go. She gathered her strength to face the need to kiss Lexa until there was no air left on planet Earth.

She failed miserably when she turned around halfway between the bed and the door, and saw Lexa's clenched jaw, Lexa's fists clutched tightly, Lexa's body being attacked by small tremors as the woman resisted her will to stand up and follow Clarke.

She saw Lexa, really saw her. She saw Lexa as the vulnerable human being that she was, as the woman she had fallen in love with, as the warrior constantly acting stronger than she perceived herself to be, as the person trying not to fall apart simply because she wanted to make it easier for Clarke to walk out.

"I don't want to leave," Lexa whispered with difficulty, the words barely making it out of her throat. "But..."

She didn't want to leave. She never wanted to leave. She wished she didn't have to leave. She had to leave. She couldn't stay, it was a need she couldn't control. She wanted to stay and be with Clarke, but Clarke was heading back to the United States, and Lexa needed more time, more distance, more healing.

Lexa knew herself too much. She knew if she stayed and went back to America with Clarke, she would not be happy. She would feel like a prisoner, forever trapped in a small town she hated. She would give in to the madness. She would enjoy Clarke's company at first, but she would die a little more everyday. Sooner or later, she would go. And she preferred it to be now than later.

Even Clarke's feelings wouldn't change this. It wasn't Clarke's issue, it was Lexa's, and it was hers to figure out. It was a battle within herself, one she had no chance to ignore. And Lexa knew, was convinced that the only way she would fully allow herself to be completely and immensely in love with Clarke, the way she truly wanted to be, was if she finished her journey first.

Clarke crossed the distance between them in two steps and wrapped her arms around Lexa's shoulders. It was all it took for a single tear to roll down Lexa's cheek. The artist cupped Lexa's cheek with one hand and made green eyes focus on the bluest sky once again. Everything in this shade of blue was made to reassure Lexa, as if its sole purpose was to protect her.

"It's okay."

Clarke bent down and kissed Lexa's forehead delicately. Lexa looked down at the floor, the trace of Clarke's lips burning on her face. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything. It wasn't one of those burning kisses born from passion. This contact was made from affection and intimacy, from the desire to protect Lexa from the world and from herself.

"Don't cry," Clarke said with a mocking tone, hiding the deep sadness underneath, as she held Lexa's hand.

Lexa nodded, ever loyal to herself, but couldn't stop her eyes from filling with tears. She didn't let them escape. She looked at the ceiling as she helplessly tried to keep her feelings under control. Clarke's hand never left hers as they walked the last few steps to the door.

It was so hard. So hard to not say the things she wanted to scream. So hard to not let the tears roll down her cheeks. So hard to follow her head when all she wanted was to obey her heart. So hard to act as if what they had could be tossed away in a single night. So hard to appear so strong when she felt extremely weak.

And it hurt so much.

It hurt as if she was being pulled apart from all sides, as if her body was being burned alive and she could only watch it turn to ashes without moving a finger. It hurt as if she was being tortured, killed and brought back to life for more pain. It hurt like the heartbreak she'd never knew she'd have after Costia's death. It hurt because it was her choice to keep moving but it felt like it wasn't her decision.

Their week together had been perfect. They had had their chance. They had fallen asleep side by side. They had woken up to each other's presence. They had spent hours simply enjoying each other's presence. They had smiled and laughed and burst with happiness whenever they were together. They had shared hugs and kisses and touches. They had explored a small country together while discovering each other's personalities. They had shared so much in limited time. They had shared more than most people would have.

But it would never be enough.

"Message me to let me know you're safe," Lexa whispered as the door opened and Clarke stood just outside the room.

It wasn't what she wanted to say. It wasn't the right words, the right timing, the right things happening. Everything about their separation was wrong, so damn wrong. It didn't feel like anything but goodbye, and Lexa loathed goodbye's.

She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to yell so much more. She wanted to speak freely, to let the words flow out of her mouth without any filter because Clarke deserved it. Clarke deserved to know how important she was in Lexa's life. Clarke deserved to know about the storms of words inside Lexa's head.

Stay with me for the night.

Stay with me until I'm gone.

And I'll stay with you forevermore.

Spend the night.

Hold me.

Hold me tighter.

Kiss me.

Kiss me harder.

Mark me.

Everywhere.

Remember every inch of my body.

I'll cherish every one of yours.

Remember my name.

I'll tattoo yours in my soul.

I don't want to go.

I don't ever want to say goodbye.

I will come back.

Will you take a life with me?

I will miss you more than you'll ever know.

I will miss you more than I love you.

And you don't know how much I love you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

I am eternally weak for you.

Clarke blinked away the tears as well as she read Lexa's soul through green irises. Every secret was spilled. Lexa couldn't hide anything from her blonde muse. Every unspoken word was delivered to the universe in Clarke's eyes.

"Lexa."

"Clarke."

Their trembling lips met softly and Clarke shivered at the salted taste.

It was the kiss of a lifetime. It wasn't desperate like in those tragic movies. It wasn't passionate like in those romantic dramas. It wasn't heart shattering like in those popular classics. It was sweet and delicate, as if they were afraid to break the balance of the world if they pushed each other too hard. It was sensual and incredibly pure.

It was real.

It was fragile and beautiful and undeniably perfect, and could be too easily broken by the reality.

It was as if their love had been materialized into a simple touch, a simple touch of their lips.

They breathed each other's air as their lips moved a millimeter away from each other. A millimeter. The space between them was immense. They could barely see each other anymore. They couldn't touch each other anymore. It was as if they were separated by an astronomical distance and yet, they could feel the other's breath on their face.

They remained immobile for what seemed like an eternity, so close, so far, so in love, getting lost in each other's far proximity.

Lexa couldn't bear the distance. The space between them. The infinity that separated them.

She pulled Clarke in a warm embrace and marveled at the way the blonde's body fit against hers. The proximity made her heart beat faster and faster until there was not enough blood to feed it anymore. She breathed in Clarke's scent and bottled it in her mind so she could never forget it and always wake up with a part of Clarke next to her. She felt arms around her waist and almost let out a sob at Clarke's clenched hands around her shirt.

They could never be close enough. They could never find something that felt so heavenly. They could never find comfort in someone else the way they did with one another.

It felt better than being alive.

"I love you."

It was barely audible.

It was barely whispered.

It was like a dream. Too real and not real enough at the same time.

But Clarke's voice provoked earthquakes within Lexa's soul, tsunamis in her system, tornadoes in her eyes and her heart erupted from those three small words.

Lexa wanted to say them back. She wanted to say them back so hard, but already, Clarke was suffocating her with an ultimate embrace. Lexa buried her head in Clarke's neck for a second, but already, Clarke was moving back and piercing her soul with her sapphire eyes. Lexa wanted to drown in Clarke's eyes one more time, but already, Clarke was taking a step away and walking down the hall to the elevator.

Clarke had always been faster than Lexa.

Faster at healing. Faster at accepting reality. Faster at saying goodbye.

Clarke's silhouette walked away slowly, as if the blonde was taking her time to move away from Lexa. Her feet never quite left the floor. Her steps never quite moved her farther. She made no sound. She didn't cry. Her posture illustrated everything. She was devastated. She was holding her feelings inside just for a few more seconds until she reached the safety of the elevator. She eventually turned the corner, her feet still training on the floor.

She never once looked back.

Lexa stood in the doorframe and watched.

She watched until her world got blurred by tears. She watched as the artist walked away. She watched until Clarke's back was no longer visible. She glanced at her keycard on the desk, violently fighting the urge to grab it and run to Clarke to accompany her downstairs. She knew if she did that, she would never let Clarke go again. She stared at the empty hall for a long minute until she sighed loudly. She closed the door with a loud thud.

She slid to the floor with her back to the door.

She looked in front of her

There was nothing, no one. The room was empty and the silence was deafening. The air had been sucked outside and there was none for Lexa to breathe. The place where Clarke sat just a few minutes ago was voided of her presence. The hall behind her was empty as well. She was alone. She could look at nothing but the black hole within her soul.

She felt the tears rolling down her cheek.

This time, she couldn't hold them back anymore.

She fell apart in the dark and cried herself to sleep for the first time since Costia's death.

She sobbed loudly and her body shook in frustration. She couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't let the air in anymore. She didn't feel like she could breathe anymore. She felt like every tear burned her face, every cry sliced through her throat, every sob bounced back to her on every wall.

She punched the desk and hurt her fist. She clenched her fists as she resisted the urge to embark on a self-destructive path. She resisted because of Clarke.

She fell apart completely alone, but she didn't think once about hurting herself.

She didn't sleep and when she left the hotel at four in the morning, she was thankful for the speed of her ride, taking her away from the sadness.

She stared at the ocean, the same one that had brought her closer to Clarke. Now the sea was a simple reminder of how far they would be from each other.

* * *

 **There are maybe 2-3 chapters left to this story, please do not kill me.**


	12. Homesick

**A good news: The angst is almost over (and it's about time).**

 **Thanks Soncha_Kapa for proofreading (and reminding me I'm a sap).**

 **Inspiration: Hurt by Lapsley, Learning to breathe by Switchfoot and This is home by Switchfoot.**

* * *

 **Homesick**

There's something about being completely wasted.

It's expected, but unexpected at the same time, because no one knows when the line will be crossed, when the limit will be exceeded. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, the thought of losing control, of leaving all inhibitions behind. But it's also extremely appealing. You get a taste, a sip of the poison, a drop of vitriol, and the effects spread in your veins within seconds.

It starts slowly.

It takes over your body, one atom at time, disrupting all thoughts at once. More than often, the initial feeling is great. The dizziness is the best part. It's a feeling of being able to take over the world, a need to share everything with everyone, regardless of who they are and where they come from.

It's how you become fearless. You want to feel like this for the rest of your life, so you drink a bit more, just to make sure your state of mind remains the same. You drink. The glass becomes empty, but you don't notice it because you're too busy filling it again. There is not enough to drink and there will never be.

It spreads quickly.

You're at the top of the world and you look at your surroundings like you own them all. The air is made of pure oxygen and being overly aware of the beauty of the universe is the only option. The feeling is enough to make you reach the stars, but you think, the higher you reach, the harder the crash is going to be. It's a flash in the sky, a bare thought that disappears within seconds.

It's dismissed and the ambrosia in the glass remains, begging to be consumed. Its call is strong and impossible to resist. You drink. You taste every last drop of it. You bite in every atom, swallow every molecule and feel every single one of them bring you to cloud nine. It's a beautiful world, a perfect reality you want to be surrounded by until the end of Time.

It ends painfully.

The boldness disappears almost as fast as it had appeared. The sickness takes no time to replace it. It slices through the laughs and smiles, and nausea and vertigo fill the holes. Everything is confusing and spinning and the euphoria seemed unreachable, a million miles away. You're going down the rabbit hole and you can't escape gravity, no matter how many times you close your eyes and pretend to fly.

The crash is awful and breaks every bone of your body. The shock erased your blissful memories and the only thing remembered is the ache in your stomach, the pain in your head. The high is gone, the low is only beginning to show its true colors. The paradise is erased from your memory. Survival mode kicks in, but you feel you won't make it out alive. You don't regret the drinks however. The world turns black.

It's inevitable.

The need to start over inhabits you. The need to reach the farthest galaxies again, even if the fear of shattering to the ground is overwhelming, is what keeps you alive. It's what drives you.

Being wasted is like living.

You do it again and again and again, always living, always conquering, always surviving, always dying.

And you love it. And you hate it. And somehow along the way, after countless failures and restless nights, you find the perfect balance to consume to remain in a perfect state of mind.

* * *

Clarke slammed the door of her room for the umpteenth time since she had landed in her home town, two weeks ago. She felt her body relaxing as she locked herself in the safety of her home. The day took forever to end and she just wanted it to end. She would then cross another day off her calendar until Lexa returned. She was in a terrible mood and all she wanted was to kick the walls until the apartment fell in ruins, but Raven and Octavia would probably not approve.

She buried her head into her pillow and waited for her slight headache to pass. Errands ruled her days and she had only two adjectives to define them: useless and boring. She would wake up, eat, go for a walk that would last the whole day, pretend to be fine when her friends would worry about her and sleep. The good days went fast, but most weren't. Most were the complete opposite where she would end up in a park, her eyes fixated on the sky where they would follow each and every plane she could see. The planes were too far and the ache was too close.

The only highlight of her days was during the late evening hours, when she would close her eyes and pretend Lexa was holding her. She refused to let her life be defined by someone else's presence, but Lexa was not just any person. Lexa was more than that. Clarke could do nothing but allow herself to rely entirely on the hope that somewhere, Lexa was thinking of her. And when she laid in the dark, on the edge of falling asleep, her phone would beep loudly and she would jolt awake.

She never looked at the single message she received, every day at the same time. She always waited until she woke up the next day. It gave her something to look forwards, a motivation for the next day. Her only motivation. The morning was the best part of her days because she would look at a new picture of Lexa on her phone.

One picture per day. That was what her life had been reduced to. That was what her relationship had become. It went from touching Lexa everyday to staring helplessly at the digital image of someone she could mistake for a stranger if she tried hard enough.

Still, it was one picture and it was enough to prevent her from visiting the land of melancholia.

She would receive one and send one every day.

Clarke sighed when she heard the door of the apartment open and hid under her covers despite the early hour. She had no interest in seeing her friends for the moment. She had heard them for two weeks and she had her dose of psychology for the rest of her life. Seeing Raven was only a reminder that she had yet to tell Lexa that she had known Costia. Seeing Octavia only reminded her that her close friend had tried to warn them about Lexa's issues.

She heard the door to her room open and closed her eyes, hoping to disappear under the covers. She imagined she was in a room in Europe, anywhere but here. She tried to remember Lexa's skin against her own but the memory was faded and too old already. She swallowed the urge to cry, the same way she'd been doing for the past days, as if there was nothing else she could do but let it feed on her energy like leeches on blood.

"You are not five years old anymore, Clarke, I can see you."

Clarke groaned at the sound of her mother's voice. She wasn't sure if she preferred to face her friends or her mother. Both options seemed equally horrible. She poked her head out of her temporary shelter and faced the woman who raised her. Their relationship wasn't the best, but it was better than her friends' relationship with their own parents. Abby always tried her best to be receptive to Clarke's needs despite her endless hours of work and, consequently, absence.

Clarke sat on her bed while her mother did the same, maximizing the space between them despite the narrow furniture. Since her arrival, she had survived two weeks without her mother's speeches. She had to know it would arrive sooner than later, but she would have preferred never.

Clarke had seen her mother only once since she'd come back. Abby had picked them up at the airport, driving them to a restaurant that was way too expensive for their new, modest vision of the world. The way their conversation had gone had made Abby realize that this version of her daughter was not the same that had left the country, months before. Between appointments and surgeries, the doctor had had no time to discuss the real reason behind Clare's apathetic behavior until now.

"Raven told me where to find you. I thought we would finally have a talk. How are you?"

Clarke scoffed. Small talk was the worst, especially with her mother. She was so tired of pretending to be fine that she didn't even try to hide the lie behind her words.

"I'm fine."

"I'm your mother. I'm the one who learned all about you before you even knew it yourself. Give me a little more credits than that. I can see you're not the same."

Clarke shrugged. Who knew who she was now? Was she girl who had survived tragedy to be born again stronger? Was she the lone traveler discovering a world that was too grandiose and too ordinary at the same time? Was she the bored student whose life consisted of spending her night in the library, hoping to pass her next test? She surely didn't know anymore. She always thought she could go through life without having this phase of letting someone get too much under her skin and yet, here she was, mopping her days away because of a girl.

Clarke hadn't said a word to her mother about Lexa. She disliked taking advice. There was no need to create panic when it could be avoided. She had thought she would be able to fix this mess before coming back home so she could simply introduce Lexa as her girlfriend and move on through life, but this had been a mistake. And now she knew that her mother's first impression of her complicated relationship would not be as perfect as she had imagined it to be.

"You haven't been yourself since you came home. I know we don't spend much time together, but I can still see it."

"Understatement of the year," Clarke mumbled.

"Clarke, please."

"Can you please stop saying my name?"

No one could say her name the way Lexa did and Clarke only realized it now. Whenever she heard her name from someone else's mouth, even her own mother's, the blonde felt like it wasn't her own, but a stranger's. It felt too wrong, as if the letters didn't fit together anymore, as if the pronunciation was always just a tiny bit off, as if the note didn't create a fluid melody anymore, as if the name itself had ceased to exist the moment Lexa had stopped saying it.

"No, I won't until you tell me where my daughter went to have her come back in pieces."

"I told you where I've been every week. I've seen the world. Now I'm back and it's only a bit hard to get used to my normal life. I'm not in pieces, I just miss the adventure," Clarke protested.

It wasn't a complete lie. She did miss the adventure. She only missed Lexa more.

"You don't even want me to say your name."

Abby shot a sad smile at her daughter as she moved an inch closer.

"You have good friends. They refused to tell me anything. I'd almost forgotten how hard it is to break the bond between best friends. But I am prepared to stay here all night to help you with what is bothering you. I haven't seen you this way since Wells."

Clarke avoided her mother's eyes.

How could she tell her mother all the ways this situation was the same and yet so much worse than when Wells? How could she tell her that her whole life had changed within a few weeks? How could she tell her that there was only one person in her mind all the time, that she dreamed and had nightmares of the most beautiful moments of her trip, that she was the luckiest person alive but her life still managed to suck in the worst possible way?

How could she tell her mother that she had fallen for someone who was so damn complicated to understand but so easy to love?

"I'm serious, Clarke," Abby said as she put emphasis on the blonde's name. "The night is young."

Clarke sighed loudly. She had no doubt her mother would spend the night. She could be the most stubborn person ever.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You may not want it, but you need it. I know."

The younger Griffin groaned as if she was in pain.

"I don't need it."

"Well then, I do. I need this. You left home for months and now you're back and nothing seems to have changed. I need you to make me believe you are fine."

That was the problem. Clarke wasn't fine. Clarke wasn't even close to being fine and admitting it felt like she was making the problem more real than it already was. Admitting it would lead nowhere. She was crawling through her day like she could barely manage to escape the hole she was trapped in. She was barely breathing on her own, using the picture Lexa sent her every day as a medical ventilator.

"I can't say that," she finally let out quietly after a minute of heavy silence.

"I know you can't."

"Thanks for stating the obvious," she rolled her eyes as her mother finally sat right next to her.

"Now, are you going to tell me or should I get my tent and sleeping bag?"

"You should get it anyway, it's a long story," Clarke half smiled.

Abby nodded as if she had expected it from the beginning. Clarke could try as much as she could, she could never hide the way her eyes mirrored her state of mind. Abby had been patient, thinking a few days would blow the clouds in her daughter's eyes away, but it hadn't happened. More clouds had appeared, more lightning, more rain, more grey, more emptiness after the violent storm.

"Stay here," Abby said.

She went out of the room and came back a few minutes later with two cups of warm tea. She set them on the small table next to them and went to retrieve all the cushions and pillows she could find. The trio of friends had quite a collection, enough for them to have their many friends over almost every weekend. Abby dropped them on the bed so they surrounded the two of them and threw a blanket over them.

She made a blanket fort and Clarke went back to her younger years, when everything was easier, simpler, lighter, when she didn't have so many feelings to process.

She made a blanket fort and Clarke suddenly felt like she could talk to her mother for hours without ever being tired, only satisfied and relieved to share this weight.

She made a blanket fort and Clarke suddenly felt safe, and she realized it was her mother's intention all along.

"Who is it?"

Clarke pretended to ignore what Abby was talking about, but she received a glance that gave no place for changing the subject. The artist felt as if she was four years old again, having secret conversations with her mother, shielded from the world by blankets that transformed into the fortress walls. At the same time, she felt a thousand years older, sucked dry by life and drained to the point of no return.

"She's everything," Clarke whispered.

Abby's eyes didn't leave her daughter for one second. Clarke was already deep in thought, unable to distinguish what was real and what wasn't. It was different. The way Clarke's voice wavered while being so steady told Abby everything about the untold secrets.

"She's everything. She's the strongest person I know and she keeps denying it," the blonde continued through gritted teeth. "She's a dream come true but she acts like she was born from the darkest nightmare. She tells stories of euphoric destiny but does everything to make sure she picks the wrong path. She made me love her and hate her at the same time and for a moment, I forgot the difference between the two."

Clarke felt the sadness surround her once again as she kept talking about the greatest meeting of her life, the one that currently made her life a living hell.

"She fucked with my mind," Clarke said, ignoring the look her mother sent her at her language. "She fucked with it and I can't think clearly, haven't been able to since I came back. I feel like she's the one, you know? And at the same time, she keeps making decisions that tell me she's not. We're doing this all wrong."

The artist moved just a little bit closer to her mother without even being aware of it. She took a sip of her drink and was immediately thankful for the warmth that spread through her body.

She murmured their story, their tale that seemed to come straight from wonderland. She spared no ugly details while trusting her mother not to ask for more than she could offer. A picture of Lexa started to appear in her mind, as if she was drawing the memories on a blank canvas. Splashes of colors were added and brushes painted shadows at the right places, giving relief to the portrait as more memories were unlocked.

She shared everything she could about the girl who had stolen her sanity, the woman who had borrowed her heart and had no intention of ever giving it back, the goddess who had hacked her thoughts so she could occupy them all the time.

"She said she needed time," Clarke confessed, "but I don't think I have any left to give."

Abby carefully wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulder.

"Is she worth the wait?" She asked.

"She is, that's not the problem. I know she's worth it. She's worth all I have. Mom, I can wait for her as long as needed, but I don't know if I can believe her when she says she'll come back."

Abby waited. She knew Clarke too well to ignore the imminent continuation. She would let her daughter speak for as long as she needed to. There was more than the simple fear that this mysterious girl would not come back. There was more than the words Clarke was struggling to get out of her throat.

"I love her," Clarke said. "I really do. I love her more than anyone before."

Clarke's eyes filled with tears, but she managed to control them. She hated crying when she was talking. Her words became incomprehensible and her ideas were all mashed together in a horrific mix.

"But it doesn't matter how much I love her," she said with a small voice. "It doesn't matter how hard I've fallen for her, she's not here. What we have, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for her to choose me."

"Clarke…"

"I know she loves me. I know it. She can't lie to me. She can't hide it. But she doesn't at the same time. I think she doesn't. It makes no sense. I don't know how to deal with this anymore."

Clarke paused and leaned a little bit more into her mother's arms.

"How do you know if someone loves you? I miss her so much, mom. I miss her and I'm hurt. She is probably taking a thousand pictures of whatever city she is visiting while she isn't here."

The blonde's anger lingered closely to the sadness that poisoned her veins.

"At this moment, she hurts me more than she loves me," the artist bitterly declared.

She couldn't stop the sob from coming out of her mouth when she realized her own words, when she realized the implications of them, the bomb of truth that had exploded in the room.

It was those words that stung the most; those words that she had never spoken out loud because they sounded too impossible to be real, because people were not supposed to hurt the ones they claimed to love. It was those words that made Clarke realize everything they had yet to go through until they finally, finally, had a chance at the real, normal, even boring, relationship. Clarke would give anything for boring right now.

"And at this moment, you love her too much to give up on her," Abby gently stroked her daughter's golden hair as her voice spoke wise words.

Clarke nodded as she cried quietly. There was no need to deny it. She cared so much that she didn't mind pushing back her limits just for the tiny drop of hope that she felt in her blood. She was in pain, but she refused to put an end to this torture, no matter how much she felt the need to do it before it burned her alive.

"What if she comes back and doesn't want me?"

The fears that shadowed Clarke's every move echoed in the room.

Abby could do nothing but soothe her daughter's insecurities with words. She tried and tried and tried, but she knew deep down that what Clarke was going through could not be solved by simple letters put together to make sounds.

"Clarke, I hear you. You trust her. You have faith that she will come back, even if you say the opposite. You have never been able to hide anything to me, I know you. I know you love her. And from what you're telling me, she loves you too."

The blonde shook her head.

"I know Lexa loves me. I just don't know if she loves me enough to come back."

The urge to punch the wall made her arms trembling from anticipation.

Lexa had never said she loved her. Lexa had never pronounced those words. Clarke knew actions spoke louder than words, but she couldn't help thinking about what this meant, what this simple fact meant in the grand scheme of things.

Lexa had decided to leave despite their feelings. Clarke had this idealistic view that feelings could not be resisted, could not be controlled, could not be denied, and yet, Lexa had done exactly this. Lexa had taken what they had, had pressed pause on their relationship and had left without second guessing the consequences of her actions.

Lexa had transformed something beautiful into a disaster and Clarke didn't know how to turn it into art anymore.

"Are you happy when you are with her?" Abby asked.

Clarke didn't need to answer for her mother to know the answer. The blonde was not simply happy. She was ecstatic. She kept trying to find a way to describe how she felt, but none of them fit. None of them conveyed her thoughts well enough. She couldn't simply transform her soul into words. It didn't work this way and it never would. Only she would ever be able to truly understand the depth of her feelings.

"You're my daughter. If being with Lexa makes you happy, don't give up on her. Happiness is hard to reach but once you find the way to it, you don't walk away. You don't because is it the hardest thing to find."

"I don't know how to have hope."

"I don't think anyone does, Clarke. But yet, we are all doing it. You are hoping for the best right now. You feel. You feel intensely and that is the proof you still hold hope in your heart. You still hold on to the probability that she might come back because you know that these chances exist, and it's them that make a mess of you. But it's okay. It's okay to fall apart because if you don't ever break down, then you will never know how great it feels when every piece is put back together."

"I don't want to fall apart. I don't want to have hope. I hate that I'm at this point in my life where I need hope to function. I don't want to know how it feels to be put back together, like you say. I just want Lexa. There's so much I have yet to tell her, but the words won't come out. Whenever I open my mouth, it's like my vocal cords go on strike," Clarke ranted.

Lexa obviously didn't want just Clarke, and that thought shattered the blonde.

"You've always had hope," Abby said softly as she tightened her embrace around Clarke's shoulder. "You've always had it but you were never aware of it. You hope to wake up the next morning, to be healthy, to have people to support you, to find love. You don't realize it because you have so much going on around you at the same time, but it takes only one day to change everything. Clarke, you unconsciously run on hope everyday, but you are never fully aware of it until it's the only thing left to keep you going, until parts of your life start missing and you wish to have them back."

Clarke listened but words didn't make sense to her. All that mattered was the flagrant absence in her life. The void in her heart that followed her everywhere kept getting bigger and stronger, and the blonde felt like the complete opposite of the warrior she once imagined herself to be.

"Hope sucks. It's painful when you become aware of it."

"Clarke, without hope, there would be no civilization, no world, no humanity. I know that and you know that. Hope is what drives you."

"She doesn't know the whole story, mom."

"Then you tell her. You tell her and you make your own after," Abby whispered.

Clarke thought for a long time. She needed to tell Lexa. She needed to tell Lexa as soon as she'd come back because there was no place for any secret anymore. She needed to tell Lexa because if she didn't, the secret would come back and hit them in their faces later, just like it had before, and this time, it would destroy them.

"You know why I'm certain that Lexa loves me, mom? You know how I'm not simply hoping that Lexa loves me, but know it for sure? She stole me. She loved my soul so much she took it with her when she left and threw the rest away, and now I'm left here without any identity."

Abby stared sadly. Even the fort couldn't resist the enemy's attacks sometimes. Even the strongest warrior had to surrender sometimes.

They talked a bit longer and Abby left silently after Clarke's phone beeped to life. She turned only once when she reached the bedroom's door as she heard her daughter concluded the night.

"She's everything," Clarke murmured as she kept her eyes on her device. "She's everything, including me."

* * *

The wind kept pushing her hair in her eyes. Dust kept finding its way to her retinas and she had to blink a few times to avoid the burning sensation. She wasn't cold. She wore a light jacket and she enjoyed the feeling of air freely flowing through her clothes. She enjoyed air on her face that reminded her she stood in altitude. She wanted to close her eyes and forget the world around her, but the noise made it impossible for her to completely retreat to her thoughts.

But it didn't bother her as much as she had expected. She was sure that her thoughts would have turned out to be even louder than the mix of sounds that surrounded her from all sides.

A month meant nothing in the grand scale of time. It flew by, barely influencing the world, barely touching the elements, barely existing at all. It had turned out to be the longest month in her life. She kept looking for a place to call home, a place she knew she wouldn't find here despite her efforts.

Every morning was spent waiting for the sun to rise because she'd woken up too early from a dream about Clarke.

Every night was spent waiting for the moon to appear because she wanted to shut the thoughts of a familiar blonde out.

Every day was spent trying to concentrate on the wonders to be discovered turned out to be a succession of failed attempts to keep Clarke out of her mind.

The only thing she did with her full attention was to wait for a single picture to be sent to her phone. One picture of the person she had left behind every day. Her motivation. The reply to her picture always arrived a few hours later and Lexa now understood that Clarke only answered when the sun was rising on her side of the world. It was a routine. She would send the picture, wait approximately seven or eight hours and receive one in exchange.

Everyday, the picture acted like a clock. She would know what time it was when she would send one, and be reminded of the amount of hours left when her phone buzzed later. It was safe. It was familiar. It reminded her of why she was here and the reasons she would go back for. It was an anchor to everything. She had trouble imagining how her day would go without it.

Lexa tried to focus on the endless illuminated streets departing from the center of the Place Charles de Gaulle as she stood on top of the Arc de Triomphe. She observed the distant Eiffel tower lighting up the darkened sky as she desperately directed her thoughts toward the beauty of France's capital. She miraculously managed to shut out the loudness coming from the Avenue des Champs-Élysées for a minute as she clutched the piece of paper in her left fist.

Paris, The city of Light, her false salvation.

Paris, the most romantic city in the world.

Lexa sighed at the breathtaking sight, momentarily wishing she could share it with a certain person. The piece of paper was reduced to a small ball but it still weighed tons in her hand. She could feel the pressure it exerted on her skin, the way she would cut herself if she moved in a certain way, the texture of the paper and the lines born from where the pen had been pressed. She was well aware of the secret it contained, of the secret message written with dots and dashes, of the familiar way the art reminded her of someone's specific style.

Whenever she thought about it, she couldn't help but be aware of the coincidence of the situation.

Morse code.

She had learned it from Costia. She was using this knowledge with Clarke. She disliked thinking too much about it but it crawled under her skin a little bit more everyday. The flagrant coincidence. The sad coincidence. The way fate seemed to always bring her back to Costia, to refuse her the closure she chased so hard. The closure she simply couldn't catch, no matter where she went in the world, no matter what she did or whom she met.

The closure she so badly needed to be able to face Clarke and truly love her the way she deserved to be loved. The closure she had thought she had reached, but then realized she wasn't quite there yet.

She shook her thoughts away and focused on the present again.

She had found the note in the Louvre museum, just like she expected to.

It was the fifth city she was visiting since she had arrived in Europe, a month ago, and it was the fifth message she found. It didn't matter how long it had been since Clarke had walked through these exact same streets, Lexa still feel the blonde's presence everywhere. It was as if Lexa was born to walk into Clarke's steps. It didn't matter what was going on through Clarke's mind at this time, Lexa knew. She knew and she felt everything Clarke did.

It dated from when they had parted ways after a mere twenty-four hours together.

Whenever Lexa found a note, she travelled back in time to those moments of longing for a presence, of praying for the time zones to disappear, of begging for the emptiness to cease to exist. Whenever she traded her heart for Clarke's, she transformed into a different person and she knew, she was acutely aware of the curse of feeling _too much_. She was transported back through Clarke's thoughts and they were all about her, all about Lexa, all about missing Lexa, all about wishing Lexa was there. It was overwhelming and Lexa only discovered the depth of Clarke's thoughts at this time.

So deep she was afraid she'd never see the surface of Earth again.

The latest one, the one Lexa currently struggled to not look at again, had been hidden as close as possible to a magical skyline landscape painting.

"I'm jealous of the sky. It gets to see you everyday."

As she made her way out of the Arc, Lexa thought it was ironic for Clarke to be jealous of the sky when its color had chosen her eyes to live in. This fifth message followed four previous ones and Lexa couldn't help but believe Clarke had hoped she would find them someday.

She hanged on to that little note and all the others like they were her lifeline. She kept the one from the Louvre in her hand like it was the source of her own heartbeat. It made her feel alive and killed her at the same time.

She wandered in the middle of cafés and shops, but none could promise her happiness the way Clarke's presence did. She was sensing a pattern. Wherever she had been in the past month, it had always been the same, walking, trying to focus on herself, only to realize that she could not. Trying to find closure, to find a level of peace of mind she had only managed to find when Clarke was by her side, and now that Clarke was gone, nothing made sense anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing felt worth it anymore.

She almost walked into a street lamp as she thought she heard someone mention Clarke's name.

It had happened a lot recently. She hallucinated Clarke's presence everywhere, whenever someone said a word that resembled her name, whenever she saw someone who looked too much like her, whenever she heard a voice that sounded too much like hers.

The entire world begged her to crave Clarke's presence.

And Lexa could try to ignore the call all she wanted, she failed every single time.

It didn't matter what places she visited, what language she struggled with, what people she interacted with. It didn't matter if Belgium's architecture came straight from another universe, if Germany's castles made her travel to other centuries, if Switzerland's mountains healed her soul, if France's gastronomy offered her mouth the sweetest variances of the most glorious tastes. It didn't matter if Italy, where she would head to the next morning, probably gave another meaning to the word 'art' and would make her life a living hell to find Clarke's note.

She had tried to spend a month making new memories of the beauty of the world, and it had worked for the first few hours. She found it much easier to shut the thoughts of harming herself when she had no weapon in her bag and for that, she could only thank Clarke. But once the cultural shock had passed, she had been back to the state of mind in which her lover governed.

Clarke was everywhere.

And absolutely nowhere to be found.

* * *

The signal came out of nowhere.

It knocked on Lexa's door only two days after her arrival to Italy. It didn't even wait for the woman to open the door and devastate everything inside. It simply walked it, made a complete mess, like a violent hurricane destroying everything on its way, and left. It spared nothing, but more importantly, it put a new sense of order into Lexa's mind once it was gone.

It presented itself in the form of a broken routine, a glitch in the fundamental laws of the world, a violation of the code Lexa had assumed linked her life and Clarke's. The realization had been immediate. The reaction had followed mere seconds later.

It had taken Lexa a few seconds to realize what had been different, why her heart had suddenly started beating too fast for her own good, why her hands were all sweaty and why she felt like her internal clock didn't function anymore.

Time itself felt different.

Her day's fragile equilibrium had been shattered by a simple event. The hour was wrong, the minutes made no sense and the seconds no longer mattered. The sun was not high enough in the sky and her last meal had not been digested yet. Her legs had yet to ache for she had not been walking long enough. The heat was not as strong as it was supposed to be. The bottle of water in her bag was not half empty as it was supposed to be. Her second snack had yet to be consumed.

Everything was out of place because she had established her routine based on the one thing that truly mattered: the moment she would receive Clarke's answer to her daily message.

Everything had changed the second Clarke had answered immediately after receiving the message rather than waiting for the next morning.

Everything had been modified the minute Lexa had realized she hadn't had to wait the familiar seven hours before receiving an answer.

It was as if she was a doctor being notified of a code blue. The random beeping sound of her phone had put her on high alert. She had breathed a little easier when she had made sure Clarke was in no danger, that it truly was Clarke that had answered and not one of her close friends. Clarke had simply decided that she didn't want to wait anymore to answer.

Only then had she realized the one thing she was supposed to understand the second she'd stepped on European land.

Only then had she accepted that Clarke would not, could not, wait anymore. Clarke had reached her limit, one she had pushed back and back until it wouldn't budge anymore.

Only then had Lexa realized that she didn't want to wait anymore either, that she could not make Clarke wait one more day despite the fact that her five weeks were not over.

Only then had she understood that home was not a place to find, not a closure to be given, not a gift to receive or a new land to discover.

Home was a person.

Home was Clarke and Lexa had taken way too long to accept it.

* * *

A collision between two strangers in the airport seemed like a casual event until a nauseous feeling of déjà vu decided to enter the game as well.

"Watch where you're heading!"

"You'll live."

"You almost made me lose my leg!"

"What did you just say?"

Raven turned to face the blonde stranger with annoyance visible in her eyes. She was already late to the arrival gates and she could not afford to be late for anything in the world. She had to reach Lexa on time. She had specific directions to give.

"Are you deaf as well as being blind?" Raven asked with a sarcastic tone as she continued to walk in the right direction.

The stranger narrowed her eyes at the smaller woman, scanning her from head to toe as they walked side by side. The words sounded familiar. The place sounded familiar. The situation seemed familiar. The woman's voice sounded familiar. Everything seemed like a movie being replayed, only months past the first view.

"I know you."

"Hitting on me?" Raven rolled her eyes. "I've heard better."

"I'm Anya. A couple of months earlier this year, were you at the airport? Your leg, I almost made you lose it then too. It looks like it survived well."

Raven walked faster. Time was running out, but the words registered in her brain. She was taken back to her departure date, to a brief moment of distraction that had sent her slamming into someone else. She looked at the woman following her. She wasn't like the monster she had accused her to be, far from it. Had she not been in a hurry, she would have probably stopped to talk to her, but she was racing against the clock.

"You?! Look, I don't have time to hear you very due apologies. I'm late and if I don't reach Lexa within the next thirty seconds, she will be gone and my best friend will murder me. I refuse to die without knowing how this story ends."

Anya quickened her pace to match Raven's. She had a curious smile on her face. She didn't say anything else for the remaining seconds it took them to reach the arrival gate where a familiar woman with green eyes was standing.

Lexa was patiently waiting in line to buy a bus ticket when she saw them. She struggled not to look disappointed when she noticed the flagrant absence of the one person she wished would be there to welcome her. A part of her was disappointed. A bigger part of her was not surprised that this was happening.

She had messaged Clarke as soon as she had been able to buy an earlier plane ticket to go back to America. It was only five days earlier than her initial arrival date, but she had not been able to leave as soon as her brain had caught up on the urgency of the situation. She had asked Clarke to meet her, but her expectations had remained low. She had played with Clarke's feelings for too long and she would beg for forgiveness over and over again just for the blonde to even think about giving it to her.

"It's about time you came to your senses," Raven all but yelled in the airport as she walked to her best friend's girlfriend.

"I agree with the kid here," Anya added.

Raven glared at the mention as Lexa snickered. She had grown to know Raven and couldn't help noticing how her explosive behavior would make a nuclear war when coupled with Anya's.

"Who are you?!"

Anya smiled widely, in an exaggerated way, as if she was over the moon that Raven finally gave her the attention she deserved.

"Lexa's best friend, how nice to meet you."

"Your best friend?" Raven asked, looking at Anya as she gestured to Lexa. "Well your best friend is a dead woman if she doesn't listen to me. I'll skip the parts where I pretend I'm not mad at you and I don't secretly wish the sky to fall on your head for hurting my friend and jump straight to the point. Clarke is waiting for you. She sent me because she knew you would probably freak out if you didn't see her here today."

Lexa's nod was enough to stop Anya from adding another comment. She could recognize the seriousness of the situation and follow it. Something was going on between Raven and Lexa and all Anya could do was wait for the tension to dissipate, to clear the atmosphere. She had heard a lot, too much, about Lexa's relationship with Clarke. Through voicemails, calls, messages, emails, pictures, it was as if she had lived those ups and downs at the same time Lexa did and she felt exhausted simply thinking about it. She could not imagine how tired Lexa felt.

So when she saw Lexa's facial expression turn dead serious as Raven kept spilling her message, handing her a piece of paper on which the address was written, she felt the way Lexa's breath caught in her lungs as if it was her own. When Lexa's eyes turned a few shades sadder, Anya felt the blow to her stomach as well. When Lexa's smile disappeared to leave place to a confused expression, Anya felt the same indescribable feeling roaring in her chest.

"You'll meet her there?" Raven asked.

"I will. I'm leaving now."

"You get one chance to make things right," Raven warned. "If you mess it up, I'm coming after you."

"I know," Lexa replied.

"Do you really?"

When Lexa nodded, Anya could feel the hesitation of the movement in her own neck. When Lexa stared at the paper for a minute too long, Anya could feel the mixture of fear and apprehension, the smell of incertitude and hope dancing around them. When Lexa threw a quick glance at her, Anya could read everything in her best friend's eyes, as if they were sharing the same thoughts, and suddenly, she knew.

She knew where Clarke had asked Lexa to meet.

* * *

It was a place ironically full of life, with trees bordering the road and flowers blooming everywhere around the many stones that decorated the land. It was home to a multitude of species of birds that kept singing melodies of an innocent life spent flying freely in the sky. It was where the sun shone all day long, giving the place a distinct peacefulness that could not be found elsewhere.

It was a place full of death, full of ghosts waiting for their loved ones to visit, lurking around every tree and every corner. It was home to rotten corpses and eternal skeletons that would never see the light of the day again, only spending eternity six feet under. It was a place where the best memories stood alongside the worse, as if one could not exist without the other.

The cemetery welcomed Lexa like an old enemy she couldn't live without.

Lexa glanced down at the direction written on the piece of paper. She hadn't come here for a long time and she felt like she was back too early for her own good. She wouldn't protest. If Clarke wanted to meet her here, she would. A complete stillness surrounded her as she walked toward the meeting point. She wasn't sure where the road lead, what Clarke wished to show her, what reasons brought her to situate their first meeting in weeks in such a macabre place.

She feared the reason.

She found Clarke sitting with her back to a tombstone, her eyes pointed to the sky, her mouth whispering words Lexa could not hear from the distance. She took a minute to stay where she was, hidden from Clarke's vision, to observe the woman she had made the mistake of taking for granted. Lexa had trouble understanding how she could have ever Clarke let go.

Lexa stared and stared and stared until her eyes could not remain open anymore.

She drank Clarke's beauty like she was in a desperate need of the nectar of life. She thought of everything the world had to offer her, every wonderful discovery she could make if she just left and spent her entire life running from her past. She thought of the secrets she had yet to uncover, the lies she had yet to be cursed by, the truth she had yet to be blessed with. She thought of the things she was missing at this moment, the sunsets she was missing, the celebrations she was not aware of. She thought of the world in its most perfect way and nothing could compare to the way Clarke's silhouette made her heart heal and break at the same time.

Clarke was the map, the journey, the destination all at once.

Lexa took a step forwards and a branch broke under her weight. It was all it took for the bluest eyes to focus on her and for her body to be paralyzed by the touch. Lexa waited. She didn't know what exactly for, but she waited for the permission to move, to approach Clarke. The blonde seemed to be slowly shaking her head, as if she couldn't believe that Lexa was here, as if she was expecting her to disappear if she blinked, as if she feared Lexa would be gone the second she looked away.

But Lexa was here and she was real, and she stepped closer and closer until Clarke stood so they were face to face and reality couldn't be denied anymore.

There were no hugs, no kisses, nothing at all to display how much they had been waiting for this moment to happen.

It seemed like they were born to always find each other again in a modest way, without grandiose display of their affection despite the fire burning in their eyes.

"Clarke."

Lexa's voice echoed in the branches of the tree around them. Her endless speech with a million sorry's and forgive me's did not matter anymore. Clarke was the scene director and Lexa could only obey.

"Clarke, I'm back."

Lexa owed these words to the artist, but it felt like Clarke was not listening.

"I wanted to show you something."

Clarke's voice sounded detached, as if she had been practicing the same speech a thousand times before Lexa finally joined the scene. The artist's tone was calm, controlled, and Lexa didn't know whether to be scared or not.

"I wanted you to meet Wells," Clarke said as she moved a little bit to the left so Lexa could have a better view of the name written in the stone. "He would have wanted to meet you."

Lexa swallowed the emotions that threatened to submerge her. She felt as nervous as if Wells had been standing in front of her, breathing and alive. She felt judged by his ghost, examined from all angles as if he was trying to figure out if she deserved someone like Clarke. That was pointless, Lexa thought, because no one truly deserved Clarke. She was above the world.

Lexa felt like a dot in the universe, the smallest, tiniest element that existed in the cosmos.

She let the silence envelop them as she faced the reasons that made Clarke's life so beautifully tragic. She wondered what he would have told her, what words he would have said had he still been alive, what threats he would have muttered had he known the way she had treated Clarke recently. She wondered if he was looking down at them right now, wondering what Clarke saw in Lexa.

She would have done anything to prove to Clarke's entourage that she was worth her love, worth her attention. But looking at the way Clarke stared down at the name engraved, the way her eyes were not entirely covered by sadness, but rather an expression of acceptance. Lexa saw what she had not reached yet; a sort of closure she thought was impossible to find.

They stayed there a moment, Lexa waiting for Wells to be mad at her and Clarke with a tiny smile at her girlfriend's obvious nervousness. When she had received Lexa's message about coming back earlier, she had thought of a lie. She hadn't been able to believe it until Lexa had sent her the flights number and the time of arrival. She had tried to keep her expectations low, terrified that Lexa wanted to break up, wanted to see her one last time before telling her she would be gone for real.

She was terrified that this meant Lexa just wanted a definitive goodbye and she hated that she thought this way. She hated that Lexa's actions had made her see the situation this way. She hated that she would probably spend a lot of time, too much time and energy she didn't even have, worrying about Lexa's whereabouts, fearing that today was the last day she'd spent by her side.

She hated that it would take time to rebuild the lost trust because she knew they had wasted too much of it already.

So when Lexa had assured her that she simply wanted to come home early, Clarke had thought it was a lie to protect her. Until Lexa started repeating it every hour until she embarked the plane. Only then had Clarke planned the way she wanted them to meet. Only then had Clarke realized that the truth, the entire truth, had to be revealed. Only then had Clarke started to hope that she could trust Lexa again someday.

She walked a few steps away and Lexa followed her like a lost puppy, which would have been hilarious if the situation didn't ask for her to be extremely serious.

Lexa had no idea where they were going. She assumed they would walk a little around, give Clarke time to yell at her and be mad, and maybe miraculously forgive her.

"I missed you so much I thought my name would end up written there too," Clarke quietly confessed after a few minutes.

Lexa felt the guilt take over her body like a tsunami.

"I missed you so much I wondered, just a moment, what would happen if you never came back and I felt like the world didn't exist anymore."

Lexa avoided Clarke's eyes as if they were daggers aiming at her heart.

"I missed you so much I don't know how I can stand in front of you right now and not completely fall apart."

They took a few more steps and Lexa opened her mind and saw, really saw, why Clarke had brought her here.

"I missed you so much because I knew that when you'd come back, I would have to risk losing you again because I need to tell you something."

Lexa recognized the place. She recognized the direction they were heading to. She recognized the familiar tree that she saw whenever she came alone here, the tiny bump in the middle of the road, the crack in the sideway that would probably never be fixed. She remembered the shape and color of the tombstone, the kind of flowers that permanently grew around its base, the familiar buzzing of the few insects flying around them. She even saw it in her head before her eyes found the too familiar letters forming a name she had tattooed in her soul.

She knew where they were all too well and the only thought that captured her mind was how. How had Clarke known that Costia's memorial stood there, at this exact place in the cemetery?

Lexa waited for Clarke to speak but the blonde remained silent, observing. Both women stood there a long time, lost in their respective thoughts and interrogations.

"I knew Costia," Clarke whispered, breaking the quietness and transporting them to the eye of the hurricane.

Clarke cursed her existence. She cursed the fact that they couldn't even have a moment of small happiness after so many days apart, that they had to jump directly into another storm. It felt unfair and she knew they deserved better. She prayed they would survive this and get better. Her voice was tainted by fear and she knew Lexa could hear it. She dreaded her reaction. She begged the skies to let her know if she was making a mistake.

Lexa listened, her heart shattering itself against her ribcage. Of all the ways she'd expected their reunion to go, this one wasn't even on her list of ideas.

"I met her only once. She gave me a note, told me to read it when it would all be over," Clarke sourly chuckled. "A coded note. I still have it. I had to learn the Morse code to understand it. But I can see in your eyes that you already know that. You know what I draw. You see what I draw in a way not many people do. I include it because I owe her. I owe her for trying to keep Wells alive somehow. I don't want to forget her."

The air around them disappear and Lexa found herself floating between the world of the livings and the world of the dead. She could feel the cemetery welcoming her in a way it hadn't before, as if it had a hole ready for her to be buried alive in anytime now.

"She taught me more than a simple code. She taught me the value of life. She gave Wells a chance to survive even if he didn't."

Lexa frowned in disbelief.

"I didn't meet her for a long time. I was lost. I was following Wells' father around because I wanted to know what would become of him, of his organs. I trespassed way too many times in my quest for answer. One day I saw him talking to Costia and I slipped after him for a few seconds. A few seconds. It's all it took for her to scribble a note and tell me she would take care of Wells' heart. A few seconds, Lexa. I know you understand the importance of every single second in hospital."

Lexa moved her head up and down before shaking it lightly, almost as if she didn't want to hear the rest even though she knew it was inevitable, as inevitable as the sun rising the next day.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I first realized it. It was Wells, Lexa. It was Wells' heart."

The air came back, miraculously. The ground stopped swallowing her for a minute and Clarke reached into her pocket to retrieve a small piece of paper torn from an old newspaper. The writing was faint, almost erased by the few years it had spent folded into Clarke's drawer, but the dashes and dots were still visible enough for Lexa to read and recognize Costia's handwriting despite the simplicity of the signs.

 _I will honor your friend's life._

It was only a sentence, but Lexa found herself on the edge of letting tears escape her eyes. A hundred different thoughts fought in her head and she ignored which one to listen. She was surprised by the complete absence of anger, as if she knew now that it would lead nowhere. All she felt was sadness. Sadness and a hint of satisfaction to finally be able to put the missing piece of the puzzle with the others. She had never known Costia's donor's' identity. This missing information had been shadowing her all the time.

"He tried," Clarke difficulty continued with a hoarse voice. "He tried to save your girlfriend, but he couldn't. He would probably beat himself up if he was there."

Lexa nodded slowly. She didn't know Wells. She hadn't known him. She only knew of him through Clarke's words and feelings. But she knew Costia and the note definitely portrayed her. She understood where Clarke's fear came from. A year ago, she would have had an opposite reaction to this revelation. She would have had a childish and irrational reaction, blaming Wells for a fault that was not his. But not today. Today, her sole goal was to earn the right to be with Clarke again.

"Costia died from an infection. He is not to blame. But you are mistaken in your words. You are my girlfriend," Lexa whispered, "if you still want to be."

Clarke sighed in relief, the tightening around her chest loosening a little. She had feared this intimate connection would bring Lexa back to a state of avoidance. She had been afraid that Lexa would be reminded of Costia's death whenever their eyes met.

"You don't have to ask."

Lexa's smile could have ended the end of the world.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Clarke apologized again.

Lexa was thinking. About Wells. About Costia. About the possibility that Costia could have been alive and that Clarke could have been only a distant friend, checking in and out a few times a year to see how the heart was doing. This version of reality strangely didn't make her feel better, didn't make her feel happier. It didn't make her feel satisfied anymore, to imagine a world where Costia was alive and by her side.

It didn't make her crave Costia's presence anymore. She even had to force herself to imagine how her current existence would fit with Costia's hypothetical one. She struggled to imagine herself being as happy with Costia as she was with Clarke, as if that option could not exist, not in this life or any parallel one.

"Thank you for telling me."

Slowly but surely, Costia was slipping away and Lexa was letting it happen, finally. After years of trying to keep Costia somewhat alive, Lexa was letting her go.

"Costia and I used to communicate with flashlights. She would use the Morse code so our conversations would remain secret," Lexa shared. "She was so proud of herself."

Clarke smiled at the image in her mind, a mini version of Lexa struggling to learn the code while her girlfriend was mocking her. She pictured innocence at its purest level.

Lexa could be angry at Clarke for not telling her, but Lexa found herself unable to do so. She could be sad, be brought back to her memories of infections and code blue and worthless CPR, but all that was in her mind was the way Costia had fought her way through life as hard as she possibly could, with an endless optimism.

All that was left behind was a feeling of closing and locking a specific door in her brain, throwing the key away so it would remain forever sealed.

"I'm sorry I left," Lexa replied, allowing herself the right to link her fingers with Clarke's.

Clarke didn't push her away and Lexa took a deep breath she didn't know she so badly needed.

Closure.

Only now did she understand why it had been impossible for her to reach. She had been running away from the one person that held the key to closure, from the one person that held the last piece of Costia's existence. She could have spent her whole life trying to let go of the past completely, it would have been worthless without Clarke's confession, without the missing clue to solve the enigma.

Closure was not meant to be achieved alone, it was not meant to be found alone. It was probably just a term people used to pretend they needed to be left alone for a while, to pretend the only way they could get stronger was by ignoring the hands trying to help them. Closure was earned through a process that included other people, friends, family, lovers and supporters. It was a kind of healing that didn't need chemical pills or surgical treatment, but rather words and embraces, light touches and sweet whispers.

Lexa had played right into society's expectations. She had fallen through the infinite cycle of trying to be strong enough by refusing anyone's help. She had based her definition of strength on complete independence when it relied solely on interdependence, on social interactions. She had convinced herself that relying on someone else was wrong and that had led to her own destruction, to her mistakes.

She had tried to convince herself that Clarke was a handicap to her recovery when really, Clarke had been the only antidote to her sorrows from the very beginning.

She had pushed away Clarke so many times that the fact that they were together now was nothing less than a miracle and she would spend the rest of her life being thankful for it.

"Do you remember when we imagined our lives?" Lexa asked. "We were at war at first."

Clarke nodded. She breathed a little easier now that she knew Lexa would not run at the confession.

"We were at war, but we survived together. We became allies because that's what you do in life, you make connections. You make friends. You decide who you can count on because you cannot survive if you remain alone. We made it alive in the end because we accepted that we needed each other, because going through hell alone makes no sense when there are people begging to help."

Lexa paused but the words kept flowing naturally out of her mouth, as if she was born only to share them with Clarke, as if nothing else could ever be held back from her lover.

"I need you. It took me too long to realize it, too long to accept it, too long to tell you, but I need you, Clarke. And I want you. And if you allow me to stay in your life, if you bless me with the privilege of standing by your side, I promise I will never leave you again."

Lexa turned her back to Costia's tomb, focusing her attention on the woman standing in front of her, the woman who was looking at her like she wanted to believe in those words but still refused to allow herself to.

"This is home, Clarke. This city, this country, even this cemetery, it is home. Manila was home. Toronto, Montreal, they were home. Do you know what they all have in common? You. You were there with me. You are here with me."

"Don't say things you will take back," Clarke murmured her insecurities.

"You are home, Clarke. It's you. No one else, nothing else. I know it took me way too long to realize it. I know it might be too late. I know I asked you to wait and maybe you didn't because I didn't deserve you. But I want to come back at the end of the day to you, not to a house or a specific place. I want to end my day by telling you all about it and start it by looking into your eyes. I won't take it back. Not anymore."

"You hurt me."

Clarke couldn't hold it inside anymore. She couldn't let Lexa get away with everything she'd done just because she was sorry.

"I can never apologize enough, Clarke."

"You hurt me and then you left me. You made me feel like I was worthless because you didn't want to stay even if I begged you to. I let you go because I didn't even have a choice, because you refused to even listen to me."

Lexa nodded. She would accept the accusations because she knew them to be true. She knew them to do justice to her behavior, to all the wrong choices she had made until now. She would listen to Clarke blame her a thousand years if it meant she would receive a drop of forgiveness in exchange.

"I know that words may not be enough right now, that my actions speak louder than anything else and that I have deceived you more than once. I know that I have nothing more to offer you than a promise you hope will never be broken. I know that I could spend every minute thinking about you, praying to find someone who could only hope to ever know me like you do. I know that I would look helplessly for you everywhere I go. I know that when you are here, I truly believe in the possibility of forever, in our immortality. I know that I would never forgive myself if I didn't beg you right now to give me a chance, the last one you will ever need to give me."

Clarke listened to the sincerity, to the rawness of Lexa's words. She wanted to believe her so much. She wanted to give Lexa all the chances she asked for, but she also wanted to avoid another heartbreak. She would never be able to stand if she fell again from such height.

"I know a lot of things," Lexa said, "I know I care about you. I know I want you. I know I need you."

Lexa paused.

It lasted a second and a lifetime.

It was an ending and a beginning.

It was the starting point of the endless forever Lexa wanted to build.

"I know that I love you, Clarke. And I am finally ready to prove it."

She was looking at Clarke like only she could decide her fate and maybe it was truly the case. Maybe all Lexa needed was a green light to move on or to be given a second chance. And even if Clarke refused to give her another chance, Lexa would try.

She was born to try. She was born to make mistakes. And now she realized, she was born to love Clarke. And it felt good to be fully aware of it without the shadow of the past over her head.

"I want to believe you," Clarke sighed sadly, "but I can't help thinking of everything that happens when I start to believe you."

Lexa could feel her body slightly shaking from the anxiety, the tension that kept being charged inside her nerves. She couldn't miss her chance. She couldn't let Clarke go. She couldn't give up. She wouldn't. They shared something too important for them to simply give up. Lexa would fight. She would fight against time and against all odds to prove Clarke she was serious. She would conquer all wars against her to prove that she meant it this time, that she was going nowhere because leaving Clarke would mean suicide.

"But I love you," Clarke admitted. "And I need you too."

Lexa had been on the edge of fainting before she heard those words coming from Clarke's mouth. She had been standing on the edge of a cliff, a rumbling storm over her, a burning volcano at her feet if she dared to jump. She had been at the receiving point of a grenade. And now the grenade was exploding, except she wasn't dying, she was being pulled back by Clarke's hand holding her tightly. And she would survive. She would survive this blow and all the future ones.

"I have so many things to tell you. I want you to know everything. I want you to know how much you mean to me. I want you to see yourself the way I see you, the way I cannot stop seeing you everywhere I go. I want you to believe me when I say you exist within my soul."

"Later. Kiss me."

Clarke was the scene's director, the movie's producer, and Lexa could only obey.

* * *

 **The end is near... and at the same time, I haven't started next chapter. But at least, you have a positive conclusion here.**


	13. In Our Own World

**First, so sorry for the delay before this update. This is the last chapter and i** **t is more of an epilogue than the continuation of the previous chapter.**

 **I was not much motivated to this finish this story because I felt that I had written all I wanted to express, that I liberated everything I needed to.**

 **So I had the choice between writing a long chapter tying everything neatly that would have probably been horrible because of my lack of motivation, or a smaller chapter that I would genuinely enjoy writing. I went with the second option.**

 **So I hope you enjoy the major fluff in here because if you've stuck with me until today, you totally deserve a break from the angst.**

 **Let the song "In Our Own Worlds" by Jamie Lawson be played loudly because it is PERFECT.**

* * *

 **In our own world**

It took simply a day for them to reacquaint with one another in the intimacy of a private room, door locked, lights dimmed, sheets discarded and clothes thrown in disarray. The walls were the only witnesses of the way Clarke slowly explored Lexa's body, first with her hands and then with her mouth, guided by incomprehensible murmurs and shaky breaths, by fingers pulling her golden hair and hips jerking at the right amount of pressure. The bed was the only judge present to hear Lexa's need for release, her objections to Clarke's torturous slow pace and her lustful moans that resulted from the satisfaction of her blazing ache. They mapped each other's body with the same rush, the same delicacy and the same greedy appetite.

More than once, Lexa had to beg for Clarke to touch her and more than once, Clarke had enjoyed teasing her lover a bit too much. They cursed too many times and the profanities acted like an aphrodisiac on them. The constant touches were never sweet enough, never slow enough, never hard enough, never enough. They craved more and more and more than the other could ever give them, and at the same time, they felt overwhelmed by the sensations running through their limbs, as if everything was too intense for them to bear.

The taste they shared exploded in their mouths. The sounds elicited seemed to come from too far away. They were hypnotized by the beauty offered to them. Clarke was paralyzed by the sight of Lexa reaching her climax as she was deep inside her, and Lexa was floored by the sensations as her girlfriend shamelessly rode her face. And when they reached the third round without any energy left, they still managed to find more and make love until they both passed out. When Clarke woke up, her whole body was sore but that didn't prevent her from going through every inch of Lexa's skin again.

It took a week for things to stop being horribly awkward between the two of them. At first, Clarke always tried to protect Lexa from everything and everyone, fearing the woman might leave again. She knew she wouldn't, but it was stronger than her. The biting guilt had chosen her heart to hunt and she was convinced she had pushed Lexa too far, despite what the other woman persisted to claim. She tried to apologize to Lexa way too many times, in thousands of different ways. She ignored all the signals and offered Lexa money to fly away, unaware that this would spark another fight between them.

Gone was the burning passion, replaced by anger. The lack of communication was the main enemy here, but they didn't realize it until the storm was over. Clarke apologized again and Lexa's icy glare shut her down. They weren't sure what they were angry at, themselves, the world or the fact that they had wasted too much time apart already. Perhaps it was the simple fact that they had to learn to know each other again, but this time in a very specific situation.

Routine. A mortal poison to most relationships.

They had to learn to know each other again without the grandiose sights around them, without the Seven Wonders of the World displaying before their eyes, without the unexpected and the mind-blowing mysteries Earth had to offer them. They had to go through boring Mondays and painfully long Fridays before the weekends. They had to go through the struggle of normal ordinary couples, like buying food that both pleased them because they were so often at each other's place that they almost lived together already.

And when they finally managed to make it work, there was still something off.

Maybe it was in the way Clarke's mother looked at Lexa like she knew of her connection to Wells. Maybe it was in the way Clarke's friends never seemed to completely erase the tiny shadow of judgement from their eyes when they saw Lexa. Maybe it was in the way Lexa's friends always acted as if Clarke was the most selfish person in the world for insisting too much that they agreed to her point of view, whatever it was.

They seemed to be cursed by their past and their future at the same time. They kept trying to reconcile both parts with their present, but it never worked. Until they both had enough and started planning a journey only the two of them would embark. They would be away from this town, but alone together. At last. They would take control rather than having multiple voices telling them what to do, how to act, who to be.

It took a month for Raven to stop doubting Lexa's intentions, for Anya to stop spying Clarke's every move. A month during which they planned every possible trick to stalk their respective friends' girlfriend. As Clarke and Lexa were glued together, so were Raven and Anya. Raven once tried to dress up as a tree and Anya annoyed her by pretending to be a dog peeing on her. Anya pretended to magically bump into Clarke whenever the blonde was doing some errands, only to have Raven ruin everything by texting her friend the truth. They were in competition despite having the exact same goal.

They were so busy arguing with one another that they only realized they could not spy on their friends anymore once the car in Clarke's driveway was gone along with the content of half of Lexa's closet. Only then did they learn that the couple was driving toward nowhere for an undetermined amount of time. Only then did they make peace. Temporary peace until their friends came back.

* * *

It was the loneliest bench in the world. It stood on the edge of a small cliff accessible after a two-hour hike and it looked over the city below and the arid landscape far away. It was a well-hidden secret that not many knew, only those adventurous enough to follow a small, almost invisible path which security could easily be questioned. It had heard countless secrets and confessions, an infinite number of prayers and calls for the better or worse. It had witnessed wedding proposals and hopeless jumps into the emptiness. It knew more than anyone would ever know and yet, no one ever took the time to listen to it.

They wouldn't believe the stories if they did.

It was cracked and old, and the wood was bent from its many years of service, and yet, it never broke. It was decorated with names carved into the wood, some of them fading as they celebrated their hundredth birthday. It welcomed the sun in the morning and danced with the stars at night, never fully disappearing in the darkness despite the trees' shadows. It rarely rained, but when it did, the bench would still stay there, never allowing the storm to win.

It looked heartbreakingly abandoned up there, waiting for another half that would never come, welcoming all the couples in the meantime.

It didn't flinch when Clarke sat on it, letting out a small sigh as she reached the end of the rocky road. The thin layer of sweat on her forehead was quickly wiped away as she opened her water bottle to dehydrate her body. It was barely nine in the morning and yet, the sun was high and burning, throwing deathly rays in her direction. She could see the shapes of a few other people hiking in the different paths below, far from her own position. An incredible feeling of peace spread to her heart.

She was alone on top of the world.

A few years ago, she would have seen no beauty in this place, only a springboard towards the emptiness, towards death. She would have noticed nothing about the flying birds enjoying their freedom, the wind disturbing the stillness of the leaves in their tree, the warmth coming from the sun above her head. All she would have given attention to would have been the proximity of a possible funeral to this place. All she would have thought about would have been the lack of safety net for anyone jumping off this arrival line.

But today, she saw the blue horizon and thought about the distance waiting to be crossed, the miles waiting to be walked, the dreams waiting to be reached. She saw the trees waiting to be climbed, the buildings waiting to be explored, and the mountains in the clouds waiting to be conquered. She stared at the edge of the cliffs and thought that this would be the perfect place for someone suffering from vertigo to test their limits. Whatever her eyes settled on, her mind always found a way to twist it for the better.

Finn was the last thing in her mind.

It made her think about everything she had been through these past months. There was a clear line between her life before Lexa and her life after this fateful meeting. Her pessimism and need to run away had shrunk back to their inexistent state. Her eyes no longer failed to mirror the smile her mouth would form. Her voice no longer whispered when it could scream at the top of her lung. Her words no longer stayed hidden in the back of her mind when she had the chance to shout them to the universe.

She barely remembered the days spent without Lexa, as if they weren't important enough to remain in her memory. Since they had found each other again, she had learned about the real Lexa. Not the one running away from reality, not the one pretending she had no heart and no feelings. She had learned about the broken, shattered, bruised Lexa. She had learned about the stunning, pure, healed Lexa.

She didn't have images of scars floating around her anymore when she thought of Lexa. She didn't deny the truth. She accepted it entirely, so much that it didn't control her thoughts anymore. She had chosen Lexa because of everything that she was, not simply because of the best-looking parts of her. Clarke would take Lexa and every one of her scars, every tear, every smile, every subtle nod, and she would kiss them softly until the end of the world.

She trusted Lexa and perhaps this trust surpassed the love she felt.

Even if she was so deeply in love with this authentic version of Lexa that she could barely breathe when she paid attention to her feelings.

Without Lexa, she was simply Clarke, but with her around, she was more. She was an artist, a poet, a musician, a writer, a traveler, a person. With Lexa, she was book waiting to be read, a painting waiting to be analyzed, a constant renewal of tremendous discoveries. With Lexa, she was someone worthy of love, of affection, of desire. With Lexa, the dull world was replaced by a reality in which she could only move forward, never tripping on her way to the future days.

With Lexa, Clarke belonged wherever she went.

"Mountains are a great compromise, aren't they?" Lexa's voice murmured as its owner sat next to Clarke.

"This is not a mountain," the blonde chuckled as her hand automatically reached for Lexa's.

"Don't pretend you ignore what I mean."

Clarke smiled. Asking her to forget about anything Lexa had said in the past was like asking the planet to stop moving. It simply couldn't happen, at least not before a very long time. Even if by some twist of fate, she forgot, she would find a way to remember. She would paint the walls of her room with scenes from their own movie. She would write Lexa's words on her ceiling so they would be the last thing she would see before she fell asleep. She would play Lexa's favorite song over and over again even if she had no idea why she did such thing.

"You're slow."

Lexa scoffed.

"I'm not slow, Clarke. You asked me to go back down to fill our water bottles and I did. In fact, I am faster than you because I walked twice the distance and still managed to join you on time."

"You're whipped then. I told you I wasn't complaining. I still have half of my second bottle."

Lexa didn't deny the words and a smile bloomed on their faces.

Over the past weeks, one thing had never ceased to surprise Clarke: the way Lexa cared for her. Every little thing Clarke said was overanalyzed by Lexa and while it embarrassed the taller woman sometimes, it only showed the extend of her feelings in a different way than by using words.

The artist still enjoyed making fun of Lexa whenever she could, especially about that time she had wanted a specific type of coffee and Lexa had ran through the entire city just to find it, only to realize Clarke was joking and she didn't drink that flavor. There was also that day when Clarke was sick and had called Lexa to wish her a nice day, only to find out the woman was already at her door, having heard of the situation from a concerned Raven.

Or that stormy night during which the blonde had needed a specific paintbrush but couldn't find it. The painting was due to be displayed in a gallery the next day and she had contacted Lexa with rage in her voice and tears in her eyes. The shops were all closed and yet, Lexa had somehow managed to find one. Only later did Clarke learn of her girl calling the owner of one specific place to beg him to unlock the door for a few minutes, offering way too much money in exchange.

She had paid her back and Lexa had bought her flowers with that same money.

"It's gorgeous here," Lexa said.

"You always say this."

It was the fourth climb of the week. It had been three weeks since they had left their town behind to drive across the state of California. Twenty-one days during which they kept falling in love with the other a bit more every passing second. Five hundred and four hours during which they ignored every call, every message coming from their other, almost irrelevant, loved ones. One last week and they would go back, but until then, they were in their own universe. It wasn't even California. It was an adventure in the middle of small unknown cities that most people didn't know of. It was a journey of self-discovery through the eyes of someone else.

When Clarke was alone, she would dream of her own stories. When Lexa was by herself, she would picture her own destiny. When they were together, they would join in a world only reachable by the two of them. A place no one could disturb, no one would ever know about. A secret place they could only see when they were by themselves. They each kept half of the key.

"It's always true," Lexa replied.

There was a pause as a tiny bird circled their head in a fluid motion. Clarke kept her eyes on the silhouette next to her, never needing to look elsewhere. Brown hair slowly following the guidance of the air, emerald eyes that could make competition to the wonders of nature, killer jawline that could cut through diamonds, soft skin that made velvet jealous, wisdom irradiating from everywhere around her, Lexa was not from this reality, Clarke was convinced of it.

"I'm not going anywhere," the object of Clarke's admiration broke the silence.

Stating the obvious didn't make the sky eyed woman look away.

"I know, I just… You're stuck with me staring at you for a very long time. It's written in the implicit contract you signed when you started liking me. I can't look away."

Lexa smiled lightly as she cupped Clarke's cheek with her hand. It fits perfectly. She pushed a little, directing Clarke's head to turn to the other side so that her eyes were facing the opposite direction.

"You just did," Lexa teased.

Clarke snorted and moved her eyes back on her favorite piece of art.

"I could be in a sea of people right now, trapped in some creepy blurred labyrinth and I believe I'd still be able to know exactly where you stand. I could be blind and deaf and mute, and paraplegic, and need to be fed by needles, and I'd still know. I'd still look for you." she pronounced slowly as if Lexa was a five years old who needed very clear explanations.

Lexa stared back and Clarke felt her entire being tremble at the attention.

"I can't look away either," Lexa admitted. "I have to force myself to."

No sight would ever be as magical as the way Clarke appeared before her eyes. No architect could ever design a place more glorious than Clarke's body, more precious than Clarke's embrace, more fascinating than Clarke's soul. No programmer could ever create a program able to replace Clarke's grip on Lexa's life.

Maybe it was the way this place seemed isolated from the rest of the world or the way its ambiance was impossibly enchanting, but they both couldn't resist the urge to let their feelings out. They both always ended up talking too much when they could see miles away, as if the grand scale of the cosmos was suddenly revealed to them and their microscopic size couldn't hold the pressure of the amount of feelings bubbling inside them.

"You see me in a way no one else can, you know?" Clarke said. "You pulled me out of invisibility. When I travelled before, I used to think I could walk by any place like a ghost, see what I wanted to without ever being noticed. And now I feel that I will always be seen, always be noticed, always be there. You found me even though I had no idea I needed to be found."

Lexa shook her head slowly.

"You found me," Clarke insisted, "through your messages in the middle of the night, through your phone making mine ring, through your encouragements when I was completely lost in the middle of a foreign city, through your passion for life even though you've always been so close to death. You found the existing part of me when I thought it was gone."

"You never needed to be found, Clarke. You've always been there, always ignoring people noticing you so you thought no one paid attention to you. I've simply been lucky enough to catch your attention."

Clarke disagreed but she knew better than to try to convince Lexa. That woman would go to the other side of the globe to prove her wrong.

"You're not the only one to feel this way," Lexa confessed. "You've always been there. When I gave up, when I had nightmares and when they took control of my reality too. When the white became black and the order became chaos, and the breeze turned into hurricanes. When the border keeping me from walking into madness' territory became an open door, you held it closed for me. You put a padlock on it and threw the key in the ocean. You found the best of me when I was convinced it was gone."

She had said it already and she would probably say it again. They spent too long looking at each other and when they finally stopped, thirty minutes had gone.

"Do you ever think about what we'll do when we'll have climbed all the mountains of this world?" Clarke grinned. "We won't have a place to talk like this anymore. We'll have to keep all those thoughts inside."

Lexa shrugged as if it wasn't something she had thought about countless times before. She had a hard time communicating her feelings and appearing vulnerable to her other half. High up here, she didn't anymore. She didn't have as many worries trying to suffocate her anymore.

Maybe Clarke had been right all this time and the sky truly was better than the earth.

She turned the question in her head many times until she managed to find the only answer she wanted to give her girlfriend.

"Do you enjoy this activity?" she asked.

"I can see the infinity better from up here," Clarke nodded, pointing at the endless celestial sphere.

"Then I will build you more mountains."

The tone was so serious that Clarke couldn't prevent a look of mockery from appearing. She had learned a while ago that Lexa never gave ordinary answers, only grandiose ones, impossibly crazy ones as if she had never learned the word 'moderation'.

"How? I know you like to pretend you're strong, but you're not THAT strong."

"That's not what you said when I carried you up the stairs of the apartment last night because you were too busy trying to rip my shirt off," Lexa deadpanned.

"I did manage to rip your shirt off before you reached the top," Clarke winks innocently.

Green eyes rolled in disbelief. She had climbed the last step one second after Clarke had managed to do it, it wasn't that much of a time difference. She couldn't be blamed for being distracted by Clarke sucking on her neck like a madwoman, marking her as if they both didn't know already they belonged together. She couldn't be blamed for wanting to stop in the middle of the stairs to have her way with the love of her life. She had accidently dropped her because of the chemicals racing through her body, but had made it to the bed by miracle.

"I know you will though," Clarke continued with a joking tone. "I have no doubt about it. You'll imagine a place where there are no flat lands. You'd probably ask me what color I'd want them to be. You'd probably even harass me to know which exact tree I'd want to pass by on my way up."

"Clarke, don't." Lexa threatened with that familiar commanding voice that illustrated she knew exactly what would follow.

"You'd ask me what birds would fly above my head and what the wind would smell like. You'd go on by wanting me to describe the sound my steps would make. And then you'd move on to the flowers and the grass, and probably even the insects that I would never see because I hate them so you wouldn't dare include them. You'd ask about what plants I'd want, what shape, what texture, what size."

"Clarke, listen."

"You'd probably want to know exactly where I'd stand in this place, my exact coordinates. One millimeter off and you'd go crazy and blame yourself for things you wouldn't even be responsible for. You'd ask about my hairstyle, my clothes, and then you'd probably end up imagining me naked. You'd ask about everything; I know you. And if I want a damn gorilla in this world, you'd add one even if you hate them. I know you would, you're just that insane."

"Clarke."

"You'd want everything to be perfect. You'd make sure every single rock is at the right place. And if I don't like something, you'll move everything around even if I simply wanted you to add a small detail on the far left corner of that world. You'd ask about the atmosphere of this place because all hell would break loose if it wasn't peaceful or anarchic enough. And I'd end up painting that world. I would make it come true on a canvas, just like I did before."

The world they had imagined months ago was the first painting Clarke had sold. The war and immortal love story they had built in their minds now belonged to someone else, but it would always be theirs in the first place. This alternative universe proved that no matter the time and space, the situation and the restrictions imposed on them, they would find each other continuously.

"You'd probably think of everything I'd forget about, except one thing, and I know you would ignore it."

Lexa sighed. Repeating Clarke's name seemed to be useless and she had to admit the dreamy smile on the blonde's face was a priceless sight.

"You'd forget to ask if I'd want someone there with me. That's the primordial aspect and you'd overlook it because you tend to do that, forget that you're the one who matters the most to me, not anyone or anything else."

"I would not forget about it."

"Yes, you would. You'd forget what makes this universe perfect," Clarke carelessly answered. "But it's alright because I'm here to remind you of that place you have. I know you, Lexa. I keep repeating it to you. You always pretend you're not the center of my universe because you refuse to give yourself too much importance, but I have some news for you. You're the center of my universe whether you want it or not. I will repeat it as much as I have to until you believe me, even if it takes my whole life."

Lexa nodded. She had no trouble believing this.

She had no shame pretending she never remembered just so she could hear Clarke saying those words again and again.

The words were absent and even if she could find a proper answer, she knew it wouldn't be enough. She felt that the words were created as a failed attempt to explain the unexplainable and yet, Clarke always seemed to know what would make her soul go running wild into a romantic place. She always seemed to know the flawless way to state the only truth that mattered.

"You're what keep me from drifting away in empty space," Clarke finished. "You're what keep me from falling into a black hole and never come out. You're the reason I don't disappear to another dimension."

Nothing could stop Lexa's smile from appearing.

Nothing could stop Clarke's eyes from filling with an intense look of tenderness.

Nothing could stop Lexa's skin from forming goosebumps despite the torrid weather.

Nothing could stop Clarke from kissing the woman sitting next to her.

It was a chaste contact, but one they would never get used to. It tasted as good as their first kiss, but never as delicious as their future ones. It never failed to upgrade the rhythm of their hearts, the pace of their breaths and the rush of the blood circulating in their bodies. It was delicate with a dash of fierceness.

"You talk too much," Lexa whispered as they moved apart.

"But I'm right," Clarke said with her eyes still closed.

"I might have forgotten it in the past, but not anymore. I believe you."

"You keep telling yourself that."

Lexa recognized the way Clarke played around the main subject, juggled with the insecurities that sometimes, rarely, appeared for a few seconds. It was always subtle and it was often gone before she could catch a sight of it, but not this time.

"I love you too, Clarke."

She had pronounced the words a lot in the past few weeks, but it always sounded like it was the first time. Blue eyes met their verdant equals. The confession always resonated within Clarke's soul like a quiet secret that only the two of them would ever be aware of, no matter who was around them.

It was the proper answer and it was enough.

"All the worlds we create, they could never be as great as this one. It would only be a part of me with a part of you. An incomplete portrait. A small percentage of reality. A virtual copy of who we are, of who we want to be. It would never be enough," Lexa softly spoke. "It's a place where you'd disappear if I stop thinking about it, where you'd stop existing the second I open my eyes and stop focusing on the images."

The breeze made the leaves sing a symphony as she kept going.

"I don't want to imagine an alternative world in which we are together because it doesn't matter anymore. We are together. And I like the idea of 'us' existing in any time, but for the moment, we are together in this one. I don't want you to be anyone else, even another me."

Clarke laughed at the thought of another Lexa. She could see many scenarios being born from this ideas and it always ended up with the two Lexa's fighting for her, as bizarre as it sounded.

"You're it, Clarke. You're forever."

"Why are you suddenly all sentimental?" Clarke playfully asked.

It was Lexa's turn to let out a quiet laugh that got taken by the trees. The middle of the day was approaching and they could hear more hikers complaining about the heat around them. They always walked passed the hidden bench without noticing the couple lost in each other's presence.

"I don't know. Because you are here and this is real. You are real. You're not a simple message coming from another device. You're not a casual 'hello' in the middle of the afternoon. You're the first 'good morning' and the last 'good night' that I want to hear. Because you're not any song I hear on the radio, you're the one I have on repeat when I need music to motivate me through the day. You're not any star in the sky when I need guidance, you're the North Star. Because I'm not the only one who needs to be reminded of her importance."

Clarke nods absently. Would she ever get used to hear Lexa's praises?

No.

"Where are we going next?"

Lexa had no idea. They had a week. It could be the last week they would spend together for a long time. She wanted to make the most of it. She had already warned Anya that when she would come back, she didn't want to hear lessons and morals about what she had done. She didn't want to see any wronged attitude toward Clarke anymore, from anyone, unless they wanted to be banned from her life.

"I miss when I could think straight," Lexa said. "When you weren't always in my thoughts, messing with them in the most pleasurable way, I could plan ahead. Now I can't even imagine what I wish to do once we're gone from this place. I can't think of things to do that are nearly as amazing as being with you."

Clarke smiled the kind of smile she only reserved for when Lexa turned into a hopeless romantic.

"Then how about you race me to the bottom of this so-called mountain? We can think about the rest later. We have time."

They had time.

It was the most beautiful sentence to Lexa.

Clarke didn't wait for an answer and quickly jogged toward the road.

It took a few minutes for Lexa to gather her thoughts and walked the way back. She took so long to memorize the scenery that she knew she would lose this race. She snapped a picture of the bench, of the view, of the sun, making sure to save those memories into a digital version so she could show them to Clarke when they would be too old to form coherent sentences.

She couldn't plan, but she knew, she just knew that this was only the beginning for the two of them. The first sentence of a book that would never end, not even after death. She followed a different path to go down and almost turned the wrong way three different times, only managing to find her way by the text messages received at the perfect moment, as if Clarke had known all this time that she would get lost.

Maybe it didn't matter, which road she chose to reach the bottom of the hill. Maybe it didn't matter, which turn she picked, which dead-end she encountered, which mistake she made. And maybe she would trip on her way there, maybe she would crash and bleed and agonize until every ounce of energy had left her body, until she would get up again and take another first step.

She would get there. She would get there because Clarke was waiting for her and it was all that mattered. She would get there because love was there. It existed, it was extraordinary, thrilling and sumptuous, and terrifying, horrible and ugly, but undoubtedly worth the trouble. It was red when someone wanted blue, dark when someone wanted light, war when someone wanted peace, incredibly loud when someone wished for silence. It wasn't meant to be easy. It was meant to turn one's life upside down and that could never be easy.

Lexa walked by a strange dark tree. Its branches were all twisting in strange patterns, naked without a single leaf hanging on them. It looked like a survivor, standing on the exact line between earth and nothingness. Its shape resembled the one of a dancer made of twisted wired frozen in the middle of a spine-chilling performance. It seemed extremely strong and impossibly vulnerable, having being through all kind of weather and all possible diversity. It looked like a single slap from the wind would break it in thousand pieces, and yet, like a tornado could never be strong enough to remove its roots from the ground.

She immediately connected with the essence of this tree, as if it was her mentor, her guide through her life. It was the last thing she noticed before she saw Clarke's silhouette waving at her from a few meters down. She sighed in relief. The way down had been torturously endless without her girlfriend's company. She could keep walking on the trail until it turned and joined Clarke's path or she could jump directly from where she stood to join her girlfriend, and pray not to break any limb.

It was high and dangerous, and the ground seemed too far for her to make that move without risking being injured. It was a move she would have never done a few months ago, especially not with Clarke around. She would have never dared to take a step forwards into the air.

But this was not a few months ago, this was today, and the choice was ridiculously easy. Clarke's smile was too bright, too inviting for Lexa to resist the urge to join her. Clarke's blue eyes were full of happiness; a kind of joy Lexa could not recognize until she realized it was a type of innocence replacing the lost one.

She barely hid her smile as she jumped into the void separating them and Clarke caught her in her arms, miraculously managing to not crash to the ground at the same time. They struggled to control their balance, but within a minute, their laughs broke the silence in a perfect synchrony as they shared a quick embrace.

They were together.

In their own world.

* * *

 **Thank you for all of you wonderful people.**

 **The bench and tree are inspired by things I saw while doing the Hollywood Sign hike.**

 **Tell me all about clexa via twitter: mcevilqueen**


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